A; 
Ai 

Oi 
0: 

1  \ 

41 
01 
3i 

1  I 
1  j 
81 


SHAKESPEARE 
Love's  Labour's  Lost 


Lov.  ': 

LABOUR'S 

LOST. 


A    (■(  M 


■\A^3- 


'BI=(.E. 


% 


\  Mtmt 


FIFTH    AVENUE   THEATRE, 

FOR  THE  FIRS'l    HME  ON  THE  NEW  YOR^  GE, 


-TED    F'  1- :  O  ivi    i  s.^   ,    .    ,- 


!WI  P   i  1        \ 


MR.    AUGUSTIN    DALY 


^':    VV    YORK  ; 

W,  MORK:-;t>EY,  PUBLISHKK 


Nof    i:  ".141  «  '.        ■  nUcf-tr..'.  N    > 


/ 


"^-5- 


STEVENS  ,&    CO., 

eM,..^._       J  .M,,„;,f.i|liirers  of 

1^  INK    Jl^nt^ELKY 

AND    SILVEF^WAH-i^. 

SPECIAL  ATTENTIOX  PAID   TO   THE 
RESETTING   OF  DIAMONDS. 

839  BROADWAY,  N.  Y. 


"1 


WILL':AM  THOMSON. 

•nookjseller  ai]d  Station er,: 

1I07  i^ROADWAY,  NEA^  YORK. 


Wedding  Invitations  and  Visiting  Cards,  Crests  and 
Monog.'/ims  engraved  and  stamped  on  Note  Paper,  &c. 
FinOVallets,  Card-Cases,  and  Pocket  Cutlery. 
French   and    English    Note   Papers   in    all    the    new 


SANTA  BARBARA 


LOVE'S    LABOUR'S   LOST. 


"  Love's  Labour's  Lost"  ip'the  third  of  tbe  stndicd  and  elaborate  revivals  of 
Shakesperean  Comedy  which  Mr.  Dalt  has  cflcrcd  at  the  Fifth  Avcr.iie  Theatre. 

The  previous  revivals  were  commeDCcd  with  "  Twdfih  Might"  and  "The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

The  interest  which  such  an  event  must  necessarily  create  is  of  that  kind 
■which  passes  beyond  merely  dramatic  circles,  and  engages  the  attention  of  littera- 
teurs, and  in  a  more  general  way  of  every  observer  of  the  progress  of  art  in  the 
United  States.  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost"  has  never  been  acted  in  the  City  of  New 
York,  or,  if  it  has,  there  is  at  least  no  record  extant  of  any  such  performance.  A 
brief  but  unimportant  revival  took  place,  uowever,  in  1858  at  the  Arch  Street 
Theatre,  Philadelphia.  It  is  nearly  thirty-five  years  ago  since  the  play  was 
acted  in  London,  the  last  performance  being  at  the  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  in 
September,  1839.  Though  the  play  is  thus  unfamiliar  to  the  stage,  it  is  one  of 
the  best  known  in  the  ckiset,  and  possesses  an  especial  interest  in  the  fact  that 
it  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  language.  ''Love's  Labour's  Lost"  is  conceded  to 
be  the  first  play  which  Shakespeare  wrote,  the  great  dramatist  being  then 
thirty  years  of  age.  Mr.  Maloiie  is  of  opinion  that  Shakespeare  commenced  to 
write  for  the  stage  in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  (1591.)  Ilis  first  work,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  statement,  was  "Venus  and  Adonis,"  which  was  not  published, 
however,  until  1593.  Malone  places  the  production  of  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost" 
at  1594,  but  Coleridge  thinks  that  it  must  have  been  planned  much  earlier — 
no  doubt  before  the  dramati-t  left  Stratford  and  went  up  to  London.  He  thinks 
that  it  was  a  boyish  production,  which  was  afterward  retouched  and  improved, 
and  in  sustaiument  of  this  view  observes  that  the  chaiacters  in  the  play  are 
such  as  a  country  town  and  school-boy's  observation  might  supply.  In  one  of 
his  essays  the  same  writer  observes:  "Yet,  if  this  juvenile  drama  had  been 
the  only  one  extant  of  our  Shakespeare,  and  we  possessed  the  tradition  only  of 
his  riper  works,  or  accounts  of  them  in  some  writers  who  had  not  even  men- 
tioned this  play,  how  many  of  Shakespeare's  characteristic  features  might  we 
not  still  have  discovered  in  'Love's  Labour's  Lost,'  though  a?  on  a  portrait  of 
him  taken  in  his  boyhood."  In  respect  to  the  characters  of  the  drama,  however, 
Coleridge  observes  that  they  may  nor  be  the  fruits  of  observation,  but  imper- 
sonated out  of  Shakespeare's  own  multiformity,  for,  he  says,  the  transrendent 
genius  in  its  very  earliest  utterances  produced  marvels  of  outline  or  suggestion, 
as  in  riper  years  it  produced  wonders  of  finish  and  perfect  form. 

In  "  Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  at  all  events,  there  iw  the  budding  of  Shake- 
speare's genius.  The  composition  was  begun  when  he  was  a  boy,  probably  as  a 
work  of  delicate  fancy,  when  the  stimulating  suggestions  of  a  stage  representa- 
tion were  not  yet  present  to  his  mind.  It  was  not  prepared  in  expectation  of 
and  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  any  theatrical  performance,  and  for  this  reason 
its  very  novelty  of  construction  and  simplicity  of  action  are  particular  merits. 
The  first  draft  of  "Love's  Labour's  Lost"  took  the  form  of  a  pretty  pastoral 
dramatic  poem,  but  when  it  was  given  to  the  world,  near  the  time  of  its  author's 
ripe  manhood,  it  bad  been  carefully  revised,  and  many  addi  ions  had  been 
made  to  it.  The  comic  element  was,  i)robabIy.  then  enriched  with  new  sugges- 
tions, for  only  the  experienced  phiywriglit  s;iw  the  attractiveness  of  a  some- 
what lower  stratum  of  humor  by  wh  ch  audiences  might  be  amused.  At  this 
time  the  pageant  or  mime  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  act  occurred  to  the  mind  6£  • 
the  dramatist,  and  so  was  added  to  gratify    the  taste  for  quaint  device  and 


broad  fiin.  "  There  is  no  play,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  which  has  moro  evident 
mtirks  of  ihu  haii'l  of  Shikespcare."  and  this  m:iy  mean  the  hand  of  genius  at 
its  zeniih  retonciiing  the  less  biilliant  produclion  cf  earlier  years. 

It  has  been  conceded  by  nearly  all  Shakespearean  wi  iters  who  haveadvcrtcd 
to  the  topic,  that  the  chief  personages  in  "Love's  Labonr's  Los*/'  arc  the  first 
sketches  or  sn,'gestions  from  which  the  better-known  character?  in  some  of  ihe 
author's  later  comedies  have  been  developed.  Thus,  as  Coleridge  cibserves, 
^liiron.  and  7?o»v/i/?e  are  the  prc-cxistent  st:ite  of  IJeneciict  i\ud  Beaiiice  ;'" 
Annido  is  the  original  of  Malvolio  in  "Twelfth  Night;"  CoUarit.  tlie  clown, 
foreshadows  th.j  whole  range  of  ShakcspearcV  clowns  and  fools— 6'oW/O,  To'ich- 
«to/(«^  and  the  likr.  DiiU  U  the  original  of TJoy^e/jy,  llolofimcs  of  6iv  Hugh 
Ecuns,  NuLlianiel  oi  JiiHice  Swallow,  JciQueneila  (t[  yli/c/rey,  and  so  on.  It 
nijst  bo  an  es.i  lisito  plea-nre  to  see,  in  this  fir^t  play  of  .Shakespeare,  the  germs 
of  the  subsequent  flower  and  fruit  of  draniatic  personality.  It  may  seem 
amazing  that  in  this  one  play  all  ihe  multiform  characters  of  Shakespeare's 
mature  genius  i-honld  be  gathered  and  condensed,  bnt  Coleridge  jmls  llio  matter 
wol;  when  he  says  that  true  genius  begins  by  generalizing' and  condensing,  and 
ends  by  realizing  and  expanding— it  first  collects  the  seeds.  In  this  view, 
"  Love's  Labour's  Lost"  is  the  seed  of  neatly  all  the  author's  subsequent  come- 
dies. The  scene  of  the  i)lay  bears  an  entirely  sylvan  aspect.  The  forcft  glades 
of  "  As  You  Like  It"  and  the  garden  scanes  of  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing" 
are  all  here,  lis  loves  are  pastor.il.  the  utterances  of  its  characters  are  fraught 
with  poesy,  and  the  quibs  and  quibbles  ol  wit  are  full  of  health  and  tone. 

The  plot  of  ''Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  which  rests  upon  a  ''  whimsical  deter- 
mination" of  the  King  of  Navarre  and  three  gentlemen  of  his  court  to  retire 
from  the  world  for  three  years,  and  forsake  all  gayeties  and  the  blandishments 
of  the  fair  sex,  is  not  quite  improbable,  as  Coleridge  observes,  to  those  who  aro 
familiar  with  the  histoiy  of  the  middle  ages,  with  their  courts  of  love,  and  all  that 
drapery  of  chivalry  which  engaged  even  mighty  kiuLS.  This  sort  of  story,  tho 
*ame  writer  urges,  was  admirably  suited  to  Shakespeare's  times  when  the  En- 
glish court  was  still  the  foster  mother  of  the  State  ai  d  of  the  masses.  The  arii- 
val  of  the  Princess  of  France  and  her  ladies  to  gain  audience  ol  the  King,  the 
forced  abandonment  of  their  seclusion  by  the  wou'.d-be  hermits,  the  inevitable 
result  by  which  all  the  vows  of  celibacy  and  occlusion  are  made  to  disappear,  and 
the  retaliation  of  the  ladies,  form  a  main  plot  of  perfect  structure,  and  wliich.  if 
simple,  is  at  least  admirably  adapted  to  a  pastoral  sto.y.  The  minor,  or  collateral 
plot,  too,  wherein  Lon  Armado,  the  lofty  knight,  descends  to  woo  the  rustic 
wench  Jaqennella,  and  breaks  himself  the  ban  of  'non-intercourse"  with  the  fair 
sex  by  courting  the  very  prisoner  that  he  holds  in  custody  for  listening  to  the 
rustic  love-making  of  the  clown  Costafd,  is  most  agreeably  diverting,  and  is  ad- 
mirably interwoven  through  the  general  texture  of  the  play. 

Some  of  tliejmost  felicitous  expressions,  figures,  and  observations  in  Shako- 
epeare's  writings  occur  in  "Love's  Labour's  Lost,"  and  therein  arc  found  some  of 
the  most-frequently  quoted  lines.  It  is,  besides,  characterized  by  the  most  won- 
derful activity  of  thought.  The  comedy  is,  in  one  respect,  a  satire  on  the  afltecta- 
tion  of  language  which  in  Sliakespearc's  time  marked  the  conversation  of 
courtiers,  men  of  wit,  and  even  the  sermons  of  the  churchmen.  It  is  also  a  satire 
on  the  tendencies  which  then  existed  in  the  direction  of  i)hilo9ophieal  discussion, 
hairsplitting,  and  argument.  The  clowns  lake  up  th'j  custom,  and  misuse  most 
vilely  the  words  and  phrases  of  their  betters.  Don  Armado  indulges  in  bombast, 
and  Dr.  Ililifenw  in  pedantic  pleasantries,  and  even  the  language  of  the  best  of 
them  abounds  in  rhetoric. 

Take  the  play  all  in  all— its  characters  and  its  scenes— it  Is  like  an  illuminated 
little  page,  wherein  nearly  all  of  Shakespeare's  many  cliaracters.  grouped  together 
without  regard  to  place,  smile  at  us  from  the  picture,  and  invite  us  to  a  sitting 
with  the  jovial  company  within. 


LOVE'S     LABOUR'S    LOST. 


CHARACTERS  AND  CAST; 


Covcnt  Garden 
Fifth  Ave.  Thc.ifrc,  'J'licniio. 

Feb.  41^t,  1574.        Sept.  :W;li.  1830. 

FERDINAND,  Kino:  of  Navarre Mr.  D.  11.  H.-iikiii? Mr.  Cooper. 

Biroii I      F.ivoi-iles      1  Mr.  (iuorj,a'  Clarko Mr.  Audurson. 

Loiii.'avillc..-!  of  tlio  Kind's  J-  Mr.  Loiii:^  Janius Sir.  Fiix  .laiiics, 

J)mnaiu (         Court,.        )  j\lr.  Hart  Conway. Mr.  J.  Viiiiiii;. 

Boyct j  Of   tlU!    i'riii-  |  Mr.  F.  Harduubcrg Mr.  F    Mailiuw?. 

Mercado )    ce-y's  «iiiio.    (  Mr.  J.  Duvuaii  Mr.  W.  H.  Payuo 

])oii  Adrinio  du  Armado Mr.  t  liarles  Fisher Mr.  Harli-y. 

Sir  Nalhaniul,  tlic  I'ajsoii Mr.  D.  W'liitiii^ Mr.  Meadows. 

Hololoriio-',  tlu!  Sciioolmaster Mr.  W.  David^'c Mr.  l!,-iiili'y. 

Dull,  thu  Constable Mr.  O.  Fawcclt Mr.  (iranl.y. 

Costard,  a  Country  Clown Mr.  .James  Luwis Mr.  Keoley. 

Moih,  I\->t,'c;  to  Don  Adriaiio Miss  s.  C<>n;;dou Miss  Lee. 

A  Forc-ier Mr.  F.  (.Miapnian Mr.  C  J.  Smitli 

The  Princess  of  France Miss  Ada  Dvas Mis.  Nislieit. 

Rosaline...  I        Favorites         j  Miss  Kannv  Davenport. Mad    Vestris. 

Maria <  of  the  V Miss  Sara  Jewelt MissE   Phillips. 

Katharine   (  Princess's  suite.  )  Miss  Nina  Varian Miss  Charles. 

Jaqueuetta,  a  Country  Weuch Miss  Nellie  Mortimer. .Mrs.  Uumby. 

CnAUACTERS  IN  THE  PAGEAN'T  OF  THE  NINE  ■WOUTHIE?, 

Pompcy  the  Great hy Costard,  the  Clown. 

Ale.xander  the  Conqueror by Nathaniel,  the  Parson. 

Judas  Macabecs by HololVrnes,  the  Sclioohuaster, 

The  Infant  Hercules by Moih,  ihe  Pa;:e. 

Hector  thcMighty by Don  Adriauo,  the  Spauiard. 

CHARACTERS  IN  THE  TINALE. 

Ileims.  or  Winter by Mr.  J.  G.  Pcakcs>. 

Ver,  or  Spriug by Gretohcu, 

Lords,  Ladies,  Pages,  Shepherds,  and  Shephcrdcssoa 


"LovE's  "Labour's  _/Ost. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — Navarre — a   Park,    with    a   Palace    in    it — a 

Terrace,  with  steps  leadifig  to  it. 

jEnter  the  King,  BiROiJ,  Longaville,  DvMAitJ,  from  the  r.^ 

and  down  c. 

King,   (c.)  Brave  conquerors  !  for  so  you  are, 
That  war  against  your  own  affections, 
And  the  huge  army  of  the  world's  desires, — 
Our  late  edict  shall  strongly  stand  in  force  : 
Navarre  shall  be  the  wonder  of  the  world. 
You  three,  Biron,  Duniain,  and  Longaville, 
Have  sworn  for  three  years'  term  to  live  with  me, 
My  fellow-scholars,  and  to  keep  those  statutes, 
That  are  recorded  in  this  schedule  here  : 
Your  oaths  are  passed,  and  now  subscribe  your  names; 
That  his  own  hand  may  strike  his  honour  down, 
That  violates  the  smallest  branch  herein. 

Lo7i.   (r.  c.)  I  am  resolved  :   'tis  but  a  three  years'  fast  ; 
The  mind  shall  banquet,  though  the  body  pine ; 
Fat  paunches  have  lean  pates ;  and  dainty  bits 
Make  rich  the  ribs,  but  bankerout  the  wits. 

[  Takes  the  paper,  goes  up,  and  signs, 

Dii7n.   (r.  c.)  My  loving  lord,  Dumain  is  mortified. 
The  grosser  manner  of  these  world's  delights 
He  throws  upon  the  gross  world's  baser  slaves  : 
To  love,  lo  wealth,  to  pomp,  I  pine  and  die  ; 
With  all  these  living  in  philosophy. 

[  Goes  tip,  and  signs. 

Binvi.  (l.)  I  can  but  say  their  protestation  over, 
So  much,  dear  liege,  I  have  already  sworn. 


That  is,  To  live  and  study  here  three  years. 
But  there  are  other  strict  observances  : 
As,  not  to  see  a  woman  in  that  term ; 
Which,  I  hope  well,  is  not  enrolled  there  : 
And,  one  day  in  a  week,  to  touch  no  food, 
And  but  one  meal  on  every  day  beside  ; 
The  which,  I  hope,  is  not  enrolled  there  : 
And  then,  to  sleep  but  three  hours  in  the  night. 
And  not  be  seen  to  wink  of  all  the  day ; 
Oh,  these  are  barren  tasks,  too  hard  to  keep  ; 
Not  to  see  ladies, — study, — fast, — not  sleep. 

King.  Your  oath  is  pass'd  to  pass  away  from  these. 

Biron.   Let  me  say  no,  my  liege,  an  if  you  please  j 
I  only  swore  to  study  with  your  grace, 
And  stay  here  in  your  court  for  three  years'  space. 

Lon.  You  swore  to  that,  Biron,  and  to  the  rest. 

Biron.  By  yea  and  nay,  sir,  then  I  swore  in  jest. 

King.  Well,  sit  you  out ;  go  home,  Biron — adieu  ! 

Biron.  No,  my  good  lord  ;  I  have  sworn  to  stay  with  you ; 
And,  though  I  have  for  barbarism  spoke  more, 

Than  for  that  angel  knowledge  you  can  say, 
Yet  confident  I'll  keep  what  I  have  swore, 

And  bide  the  penance  of  each  three  years'  day. 
Give  me  the  paper,  let  me  read  the  same  ; 
And  to  the  strict'st  decrees,  I'll  write  my  name. 

King.  How  well  this  yielding  rescues  thee  from  shame  ! 

Byron.     [^Reading.'}     "Ite?n,    That  no  woman  shall  come 
within  a  mile  of  jny  court. — "     Hath  this  been  proclaimed? 

Lon.    Four  days  ago. 

Biron.    Let's   see   the   penalty.     \Reading\    " 0?i  pain  of 
losing  her  tongue. ' '     Who  devised  this  penalty  ? 

Lon.  Marry,  that  did  I. 

Biron.     A  dangerous    law  against  gentility.      \Reading?[ 
*'Ltem,  If  ajiy  man  be  seen  to  talk  with  a  woman  within  the 
term  of  three  years,  he  shall  etidure  such  public   shame  as  the 
rest  of  the  court  shall  possibly  devise. ' ' 
This  article,  my  liege,  yourself  must  break  ; 

For,  well  you  know,  here  comes  in  embassy 
The  French  King's  daughter,  with  yourself  to  speak, — 


About  surrender-up  of  Aquitain 
To  her  decripit,  sick,  and  bed-rid  father: 

Tlierefore,  this  article  is  made  in  vain, 
Or  vainly  comes  the  admired  princess  hither. 

King.   ^Vhat  say  you,  lords?  wliy,  this  was  quite  forgot. 
We  must,  offeree,  dispense  with  this  decree; 
She  must  lie  here  on  mere  necessity. 

Biron.  Necessity  will  make  us  all  forsworn 
Three  thousand  times  within  this  three  years'  space: 
.\If  I  break  faith,  this  word  shall  speak  for  me, 
I  am  forsworn  on  mere  necessity. — 
So  to  the  laws  at  large  I  write  my  name : 

{Signs, 

And  he  that  breaks  them  in  the  least  degree, 
Slands  in  attainder  of  eternal  shame:        \Comes  forward,  r. 

Suggestions  are  to  others,  as  to  me  ; 
But,  I  believe,  although  I  seem  so  loath, 
I  am  the  last  that  will  last  keep  his  oath. 
But  is  there  no  quick  recreation  granted  ? 

King.  Ay,  that  there  is  :    our  court,  you  know,  is  haunted 

With  a  refined  traveller  of  Spain  ; 
A  man  in  all  the  world's  new  fashion  planted, 

That  hath  a  mint  of  phrases  in  his  brain  : 
One  Avhom  the  music  of  his  own  vain  tongue 

Doth  ravish,  like  enchanting  harmony  ; 
A  man  of  compliments,  whom  right  and  wrong 

Have  chose  as  umpire  of  their  mutiny  : 
This  child  of  finicy,  Don  Armado  hight. 

For  interim  to  our  studies,  shall  relate. 
In  high-born  words,  the  worth  of  many  a  knight 

From  tawny  Spain,  lost  in  the  world's  debate. 
How  you  delight,  my  lords,  I  know  not,  I ; 

But,  I  protest,  I  love  to  hear  him  lie. 
And  I  will  use  him  for  my  minstrelsy. 

Biron.  Armado  is  a  most  illustrious  wight, 
A  man  of  fire-new  words,  fashion's  own  knight. 

King.  Costard  the  swain,  and  he,  shall  be  our  sport ; 
And,  so  to  study,  three  years  is  but  short. 

Enter  Dull,  with  a  letter,  r.  i.  ^.,  followed  by  Costard, 


Dull.  Which  is  the  king's  own  person? 

Bir'on.  This,  fellow;   what  wouldst ? 

Dull.  I  myself  reprehend  his  own  person,  for  I  am  liis 
grace's  tharborough  :  but  1  would  see  his  own  person  in 
flesh  and  blood. 

Biron.  This  is  he. 

Dull.  \^Knceling/\  Signior  Arme — Arme — commends  you. 
There's  villany  abroad  ;  this  letter  will  tell  you  more. 

Cos.  (r.  c.)  bir,  the  contempts  thereof  are  as  touching  mc. 

King.  A  letter  froni  the  magnificent  Armado. 

Biron.  How  low  soever  ths  matter,  I  hope  in  Heav'n  for 
high  words. 

Cos.  The  matter  is  to  me,  sir,  as  concerning  Jaquenetta. 
The  manner  of  it  is,  I  was  taken  with  the  manner. 

Biron.  In  what  manner  ? 

Cos.  In  manner  and  form  following,  sir;  all  those  three; 
I  was  seen  with  her  in  the  manor-house,  sitting  with  her 
upon  the  form,  and  taken  following  her  into  the  park.  Now, 
sir,  for  the  manner — it  is  the  manner  of  a  man  to  speak  to  a 
woman  :   for  (he  form — in  some  form. 

King.  Will  you  hear  this  letter  with  attention? 

Biron.  As  sve  would  hear  an  oracle. 

Cos.  Such  is  the  simplicity  of  man  to  hearken  after  the  flesh. 

King.  \_Rcading^  '■^  Great  deputy,  the  welkin^ s  viec-gerent, 
and  sole  doniinatnr  of  Navarre,  my  soul' s  earthly  God,  and 
body' s  fostering  patron 

Cos.  Not  a  word  of  Costard  yet. 

King.  \_Keadi7ig.']  So  it  is. 

Cos.  It  may  be  so  :  but  if  he  say  it  is  so,  he  is,  in  telling 
true,  but  so  so.     Not  a  w;.rd  of  Costard  yet. 

King.  Peace  ! 

Cos.  — be  to  me,  and  every  man  that  dares  not  fight ! 

King.  [^Reading.'l  "  So  it  is,  besieged  with  sable-colored 
melancholy,  I  did  commend  the  black-oppressing  huvwur  to  the 
most  luholesome  physic  of  thy  health-giving  air  ;  arid  as  I  am  a 
gejitleman,  betook  myself  to  walk.'" 

Cos.  Not  a  word  of  Costard  yet.  \ 

King.  [Still  reading.  ]  "  The  time  when  ?  About  the  sixth 
hour  when  beasts  most  graze,  birds  best  peck,  and  men  sit  down 


8 

to  that  nourishment  which  is  called  supper.     So  much  for  the 

time  when (^Looking  up  and  smiling  to  the  Lords,  who 

laugh  together. 

Cos.   {To  Dull.)  Not  a  word  of  Costard  yet. 

King.  {Resuming  the  letter.']  ^'■Now  for  the  groujid  which ; 
which,  I  mean,  I  walked  upon.  It  is  ycleped  thy  park.  Then 
for  the  place  where  ;  where,  I  mean,  I  did  encounter  that  ob- 
scetie  and  tnost  preposterous  eve?it,  that  draweth  from  my  snow- 
white  pen  the  ebon-colored  ink,  ivhich  here  thou  viewest,  behold- 
est,  survey  est,  or  seest.     {^Pausing,  and  laiighing. ) 

Cos.  Not  a  word  of  Costard  yet". 

King.  {Reading^  '^'•But  to  the  place  where, — //  standeth 
north-norih-east  atid  by  east  from  the  west  corner  of  th\>  curious 
knotted  garden.  There  did  I  see  that  l^w-spirited  swain,  that 
base  minnow  of  thy  mirth, 

Cos.  {Jubilantly  afid  x'g  to  King.']  Me  ! 

King.  — ' '  that  unletterd  small-knowing  soul, 

Cos.  Me. 

King.  — "  that  shallow  vassal, 

Cos.  Still  me. 

King.  — "which  as  I retnetnber^  hight  Costard, 

Cos.  O  me  ! 

King.  — "sorted,  a7id coftsorted,  contrary  to  thy  established 
proclairned  edict  and  continent  canon,  with — with — O  with — 
but  with  this  I  passion  to  say  wherewith, 

Cos.  With  a  wench. 

King. — "  with  a  child  of  our  grandmother  Eve,  a  female:  or, 
for  thy  more  sweet  u?iderstandi?ig,  a  woman.  Him  I  (as  my 
ever  esteemed  duty  pricks  me  on)  have  sent  to  thee,  to  receive 
the  meed  of  punishment,  by  thy  sweet  grace's  officer,  Antony 
Dull;  a  ma?i  of  good  repute,  carriage,  bearing,  and  estimation. 

Dull.  {Coming  to  King.]  Me,  an't  shall  please  yoii ;  I  am 
Antony  Dull. 

King.  — "  For  Jaquenetta  {so  is  the  weaker  vessel  called, 
which  I  apprehend  with  the  aforesaid  swain),  I  keep  her  as  a 
vessel  of  thy  law' s  fury  ;  and  shall,  at  the  least  of  thy  sweet 
notice,  bring  her  to  trial.  Thine,  in  all  compliments  of  devoted 
and  heart-burning  heat  of  duty. 

"Don  Adriano  de  Armado." 


King.  Well,  sirrah,  what  say  you  to  this  ? 

Cos.  Sir,  I  confess  the  wench. 

King.  Did  you  hear  the  proclamation  ? 

Cos.  I  do  confess  much  of  the  hearing  it,  but  little  of 
the  marking  of  it. 

King.  Sir,  I  will  pronounce  your  sentence : 
You  shall  fast  a  week  with  bran  and  water. 

Cos.  I  had  rather  pray  a  month  with  mutton  and  por- 
ridge. 

King.  A.nd  Don  Armado  shall  be  your  keeper. — 
My  lord  Biron,  see  him  deliver'd  o'er. — \_Going  up  c] 
And  go  we,  lords,  to  put  in  practice,  that 

Which  each  to  other  has  so  strongly  sworn. 
\_ExeuntYimQ,,  Longaville,  dt«^DuMAiN,  up  c.  and  off  l.] 

Bit  on,  [^Looking  after  King.']  I'll  lay  my  head  to  any  good 
man's  hat, 
These  oaths  and   laws   will  prove   an   idle  scorn. — \^To 

Costard. 

Sirrah,  come  on.     \_Crossing  to  l.] 

Cos.  I  suffer  for  the  truth,  sir :  for  true  it  is,  I  was  taken 
with  Jaquenetta,  and  Jaquenetta  is  a  true  girl ;  and  there- 
fore. Welcome  the  sour  cup  of  prosperity  !  [^Biron  laughs.'] 
Affliction  may  one  day  smile  again,  and  till  then.  Sit  thee 
down,  sorrow  !  \^Exeunt  L.] 

Efiter  Armado  and  Moth  from  r.  and  down  steps  c. 

Artn.  [c]  Boy,  what  sign  is  it,  when  a  man  of  great  spirit 
grows  melancholy? 

Moth.  [r.  c]  a  great  sign,  sir,  that  he  will  look  sad. 

Arm.  I  will  hereupon  confess,  I  am  in  love  :  and,  as  it  is 
base  for  a  soldier  to  love,  so  am  I  in  love  with  a  base  wench. 
I  think  scorn  to  sigh  ;  methinks,  I  should  outswear  Cupid. 
Comfort  me,  boy:   What  great  men  have  been  in  love? 

Moth.  Hercules,  master. 

Arfti.  Most  sweet  Hercules  ! — More  authority,  dear  boy, 
name  more ;  and,  sweet  my  child,  let  them  be  men  of  good 
repute  and  carriage. 

Moth.  Sampson,  master ;  he  was  a  man  of  good  carriage, 
great  carriage ;  for  he  carried  the  town-gates  on  his  back, 
like  a  porter :   and  he  was  in  love. 


Arm.  O  well-knit  Sampson!  strong-jointed  Sampson  !  I  da 
excel  thee  in  my  rapier,  as  much  as  thou  didst  me  in  carry- 
ing gates.  I  am  in  love,  too, — Who  was  Sampson's  love, 
my  dear  Moth  ? 

Moth.  A  woman,  master. 

Arm.  Of  Avhat  complexion  ? 

Motli.  Of  all  the  four,  or  the  three,  or  the  two ;  or  one  of 
the  four. 

Ann.  Tell  me  precisely  of  what  complexion  ? 

Moth.   Of  the  sea-water  green,  sir. 

Arm.  Is  that  one  of  the  four  complexions? 

Moth.  As  I  have  read,  sir ;  and  the  best  of  them,  too. 

Ann.  Green,  indeed,  is  the  color  of  lovers;  but  to  have  a 
love  of  that  color,  mcthinks  Sampson  had  small  reason  for  it. 
Is  there  not  a  ballad,  boy,  of  the  King  and  the  Beggar? 

Moth.  The  world  was  very  guilty  of  such  a  ballad  some 
three  ages  since:  but,  I  think,  now  'tis  not  to  be  found  ;  or, 
if  it  were,  it  would  neither  serve  for  the  writing,  nor  the 
tune. 

Arm.  I  will  have  that  subject  newly  writ  o'er,  that  I  may 
example  my  digression  by  some  mighty  precedent.  Boy,  I 
do  love  that  country-girl,  that  I  took  in  the  park  with  the 
hind  Costard;  she  deserves  well.  Sing,  boy;  my  spirit 
grows  heavy  in  love. 

Moth.  \_Crossmg  to 'L.']  And  that's  great  marvel,  loving  a 
light  wench. 

Arm.   I  say,  sing. 

Moth.   Forbear  till  this  company  be  past. 

Enter  Dull,  Costard,  a u.'i  ]aqveuett a,  from  the  l. 

Dull.  Sir,  the  king's  pleasure  is  that  you  keep  Costard 
safe  :  and  you  must  let  him  take  no  delight,  nor  no  penance  ; 
but  a'  must  fast  three  days  a-week.  For  this  damsel,  I  must 
keep  her  at  the  park;  she  is  allowed  for  thc"day-woman. 
Fare  you  wett."  {^Gocs'vp,  c. 

Arm.  \Aside.'\  I  do  betray  myself  with  blushing. — Maid. 
Jaq.   Man . 

Arm.  \_Taking  her  hand.'\  I  will  visit  thee  at  the  lodge. 
Jaq.  That's  hereby. 

Arm.  I  know  where  it  is  situate. 


Jaq.  Lord,  how  wise  you  are  ! 

Arm.  I  will  tell  thee  wonders. — \Sighing^ 

Jaq.  With  that  face? 

Arm.  I  love  thee. 

Jaq.  So  I  heard  you  say. 

Arm.  And  so  f:n'ewell. 

Jaq.  Fair  weather  after  you  ! 

Dull.   Come,  Jaquenetta,  away. 

\_Exeu!it  Dull  and  Jaqucuctta,  up  c.  and  off  v.. 

Arm.  [To  Cosiard.']  Villain,  thou  shalt  fast  for  thy  of- 
fences ere  thou  be  pardoned. 

Cos.  Well,  sir,  I  hope,  when  I  do  it,  I  shall  do  it  on  a  full 
stomach. 

A}-m.  Thou  shalt  be  heavily  punished. 

Cos.  I  am  more  bound  to  you,  than  your  fellows,  for  they 
are  but  lightly  rewarded. 

Arm.   Take  away  this  villain  ;  shut  him  up. 

Moth.  [Crossing lo  Cosl.]  Come,  you  transgressing  slave; 
away. 

Cos.  Let  me  not  be  pent  up,  sir;  I  will  fast,  being  loose, 

Mol/i.  No,  sir;  that  were  fast  and  loose:  thou  shalt  to 
prison. 

Cos.  Well,  if  ever  I  do  see  the  merry  days  of  desolation 
that  I  have  seen,  some  shall  see 

Moth.  What  shall  some  see? 

Cos.  Nay,  nothing,  master  Moth,  but  what  they  look  upon. 
It  is  not  for  prisoners  to  be  too  silent  in  their  words;  and,^ 
therefore,  I  will  say  nothing:  I  thank  Heaven,  I  have  as 
little  patience  as  another  man  ;  and,  therefore,  I  can  be 
quiet.  [Exeunt  Moth  and  Cosiard,  c.  L, 

Arm.  [Looking  after  Jaquenetta  and  sig/iing.']  I  do  affect 
the  very  ground,  which  is  base,  where  her  shoe,  which  is 
baser,  guided  by  her  foot,  which  is  basest,  doth  tread.  I 
shall  be  forsworn  (which  is  a  great  argument  of  falsehood), 
if  I  love:  And  how  can  that  be  true  love,  which  is  falsely 
attempted?  Love  is  a  familiar;  love  is  a  devil :  there  is  no 
evil  angel  but  love.  Yet  Sampson  was  so  tempted  ;  and  he 
had  an  excellent  strength :  yet  was  Solomon  so  seduced ; 
and  he  had  a  very  good  wit.     Cupid's  buttshaft  is  too  hard 


• 


13 

for  Hercules'  club,  and  therefore  too  much  odds  for  a  Span- 
iard's rapier.  The  passado  he  respects  not,  the  duello  he  re- 
gards not:  His  disgrace  is  to  be  called  boy;  but  his  glory  is 
to  subdue  men.  Adieu,  valor  !  rust,  rapier  !  be  still,  drum  1 
for  your  manager  is  in  love ;  yea,  he  loveth.  Assist  me,  some 
extemporal  god  of  rhyme,  for,  I  am  sure,  I  shall  turn  son- 
net. Devise  wit ;  write  pen  ;  for  I  am  for  whole  volumes 
in  folio.  [£xi^,  c. 

END    OF   ACT   I. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — Another  part  of  the  Park — The  E7icampment  of 

the  Princess  and  her   Suite — Princesses'  Tent  L.  c. — Tent 

of  Boyet  and  Lords  R.  c. 
Enter  the  Princess  of  France,  Rosaline,   Maria,  Kathe- 

RiNE  from  tent  L.,   Boyet,   Lords,    and  Attendants,  from 

tent  R. 

Boyet.  (r.  c.)    Now,    madam,    summon    up    your  dearest 
spirits  ; 
Consider  who  the  king  your  father  sends  j 
To  whom  he  sends  ;  and  what's  his  embassy  : 
Yourself,  held  precious  in  the  world's  esteem, 
To  parley  with  the  sole  inheritor 
Of  all  perfections  that  a  man  may  owe. 
Matchless  Navarre  :  the  plea  of  no  less  weight 
Than  Aquitain  ;  a  dowry  for  a  queen. 
Be  now  as  prodigal  of  all  dear  grace, 
As  nature  was  in  making  graces  dear, 
When  she  did  starve  the  general  world  beside, 
And  prodigally  gave  them  all  to  you. 

Pri.  (c.)  Good  Lord  Boyet,  my  beauty,  though  but  mean, 
Needs  not  the  painted  flourish  of  your  praise  ; 
Beauty  is  bought  by  judgment  of  the  eye, 
Not  utter'd  by  base  sale  of  chapmen's  tongues. 
Than  you  much  willing  to  be  counted  wise 


13 

In  spending  your  wit  in  the  praise  of  mine. 

But  to  our  task  ;   all  telling  fame 

Doth  noise  abroad,  Navarre  hath  made  a  vow, 

Till  painful  study  shall  out-wear  three  years, 

No  woman  may  approach  his  silent  court  : 

Therefore  to  us  seemeth  it  a  needful  course, 

Before  we  enter  his  forbidden  gates, 

To  knovv  his  pleasure ;   and  in  that  behalf, 

Bold  of  your  worthiness,  we  single  you 

As  our  best-moving  fair  solicitor  : 

Tell  him,  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  France, 

On  serious  business,  craving  quick  despatch. 

Importunes  personal  conference  with  his  grace. 

Haste  signify  so  much  ;  \_Boyei  crosses  fo'L.']  while  we  attend. 

Like  humble-visag'd  suitors,  his  high  will. 

Boyet.  Proud  of  employment,   willingly  I   go.     \^Exit'L.y 

followed  by  Lords. 

Pri.  All  pride  is  willing  pride,  and  yours  is  so. 
Who  are  the  votaries,  my  loving  dames,   \Seats,  R.  c] 
That  are  vow  fellows  with  this  virtuous  king? 

Maria,  Longaville  is  one. 

Pri.   Know  you  the  man  ? 

Mar.   (r.)  Well,  indeed,  madam  ;  at  a  marriage  feast, 
In  Normandy  saw  I  this  Longaville  ; 
A  man  of  sovereign  parts  he  is  esteemed  ; 
Well  fitted  in  the  arts,  glorious  in  arms  : 
Nothing  becomes  him  ill,  that  he  would  well. 

Pri.   Who  are  the  rest  ? 

Kat.   (l.  c.)    The    young    Dumain,    a   well-accomplish'd 
youth, 
Of  all  that  virtue  love  for  virtue  lov'dj 
Most  power  to  do  most  harm,  least  knowing  ill ; 
For  he  hath  wit  to  make  an  ill-shape  good. 
And  shape  to  win  grace  though  he  had  no  wit. 
I  saw  him  at  the  Duke  Alenqon's  once ; 
And  much  too  little  of  that  good  I  saw, 
Is  my  report  to  his  great  worthiness. 

Ros.  (l.  c.)  Another  of  these  students  at  that  time 
Was  there  with  him  :    If  I  have  heard  a  truth, 


M 

Biron  they  call  him ;  but  a  merrier  man, 
"Within  the  limit  of  becoming  mirth, 
I  never  spent  an  hour's  talk  withal  ; 
His  eye  begets  occasion  for  liis  wit : 
For  every  object  that  the  one  doth  catch, 
The  other  turns  to  a  mirth-moving  jest ; 
Aged  ears  play  truant  at  his  talcs, 
And  younger  hearings  are  quite  ravished; 
So  sweet  and  voluable  is  his  discourse. 

fr/.  God  bless  my  ladies!   arc  the  all  in  love; 
Tliat  every  one  her  own  hath  garnished 
With  such  bedecking  ornamenis  of  praise? 

Mar.  \Look\iigflff,  L.]  Here  comes  Boyet.    {Princess  rises. 

Re- cuter  Bo  vet  a7id  Attendants,  L. 
Pri.   Now,  what  admittance,  lord? 
Boyet.    Navarre  had  notice  of  your  fair  approach; 
And  he,  and  liis  competitors  in  oath, 
Were  all  address'd  to  meet  you,  gentle  lady, 
Before  I  came.      Marry,  thus  much  I  have  learnt, 
He  rather  means  to  lodge  you  in  the  field, 
(Like  one  that  comes  here  to  besiege  his  court," 
Than  seek  a  dispensation  for  his  oath. 
To  let  you  enter  his  unpeopled  house. 

Here  comes  Navarre.      \_The  ladies  mask,  and  Rosaline  Joins 

the  other  ladies  beside  the  Princess. 
Enter  the  King,  Longaville,  Dumain,  Birox,  and 
Attendants,  L. 
King  (l.  c.)  Fair  princess,  welcome  to  the  court  of  Na- 
varre. 

Pri.  (r.  c.)  Fair,  I  give  you  back  again;   and,  welcome 
I  have  not  yet ;  the  roof  of  this  court  is  too  high  to  be  yours, 
and  welcome  to  the  wild  fields  too  base  to  be  mine. 
King.  You  shall  be  welcome,  madam,  to  my  court. 
Pri.   I  will  be  welcome  then  ;   conduct  me  thither. 
King.   Hear  me,  dear  lady,  I  have  sworn  an  oath. 
Pri,   Our  lady  help  my  lord  !   he'll  be  forsworn. 
Kitig.   Your  ladyship  is  ignorant  what  it  is. 
Pri.  Were  my  lord  so,  his  ignorance  were  wise, 
Where  now  his  knowledge  must  prove  ignorance. 


»5 

But  pardon  mc,  I  am  too  sudden  bold ; 

To  teach  a  teacher  ill  beseemeth  me. 

Vouchsafe  to  read  the  purpose  of  my  coming, 

And  suddenly  resolve  me  in  my  suit.   {^Givcs theJdvga pa^cr. 

King.   Madam,  I  will,  if  suddenly  I  may. 

Pri.  You  will  the  sooner,  that  I  were  away; 
For  you'll  prove  perjured,  if  you  make  me  stay.      {^Gocs  vp 
stage  (c.)  7uitJi.  the  King;  Biron  and  Rosaline 
meet  down  c. 

Biron.   Did  I  not  dance  with  you  in  Brabant  once? 

Ros.   Did  I  not  dance  wiih  you  in  Brabant  once? 

Biron.  I  know  you  did. 

Ros.  How  needless  was  it  then 
To  ask  the  question  ! 

Biron.     You  must  not  be  so  quick. 

Ros.  'Tis  'long  of  you  that  spur  me  with  such  question. 

Biron.  Your  wit's  too  hot,  it  speeds  too  fast,  'twill  tire. 

Ros.   Not  till  it  leave  the  rider  in  the  mire. 

Biron.   What  time  o'  day? 

Ros.  The  hour  that  fools  should  ask. 

Biron.  Now  fair  befall  your  mask  !     {Attempting  to  pry  be- 

neath  her  visor. 

Ros.  Fair  fall  the  face  it  covers  I 

Biron.  And  send  you  many  lovers! 

Ros.  Amen,  so  you  be  none. 

Biron.  Nay,  then  will  I  be  gone.  [timate 

King  {.coming  down  c]  Madam,  your  father  here  doth  in- 
The  payment  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns; 
Being  but  the  one  half  of  an  entire  sum, 
Disbursed  by  my  father  iii  his  wars. 
But  say  that  he,  or  we,  (as  neither  have,) 
Receiv'd  that  sum  ;  yet  there  remains  unpaid 
A  hundred  thousand  more  ;  in  surety  the  which, 
One  part  of  Aquitain  is  bound  to  us, 
Although  not  valued  to  the  money's  worth. 
If  then  the  king  your  father  will  restore 
But  that  one  half  which  is  unsatisfied, 
We  will  give  up  our  right  in  Aquitain, 
And  hold  fair  friendship  with  his  majesty. 


i6 

Pri.  You  do  the  king  my  father  too  much  wrong. 
And  wrong  the  reputation  of  your  name, 
In  so  unseeming  to  confess  receipt 
Of  that  which  hath  so  faithfully  been  paid. 

King.  I  do  protest,  I  never  heard  of  it ; 
And,  if  you  prove  it,  I'll  repay  it  back, 
Or  yield  up  Aquitain. 

Pri.  We  arrest  your  word  :  — 
Boyet,  you  can  produce  aquittances 
For  such  a  sum,  from  special  officers 
Of  Charles  his  father. 

King.     Satisfy  me  so.  {^Turning  to  Boyet. 

Boyet.   So  please  your  grace,  the  packet  is  not  come. 
Where  that  and  other  specialities  are  bound ; 
To-morrow  you  shall  have  a  sight  of  them. 

Ki?jg.   It  shall  suffice  me  :   at  which  interview 
All  liberal  reason  I  will  yield  unto. 
Mean  time,  receive  such  welcome  at  my  hand 
As  honor,  without  breach  of  honor,  may 
Make  tender  of  to  thy  true  worthiness : 
You  may  not  come,  fair  princess,  in  my  gates 
But  here  without  you  shall  be  so  receiv'd, 
As  you  shall  deem  yourself  lodg'd  in  my  heart 
Though  so  denied  fair  harbor  in  my  house.     [Crossing  io  R.^ 

and  turning  with  a  bow. 
Your  own  good  thoughts  excuse  me,  and  farewell: 
To-morrow  we  shall  visit  you  again. 

Pri.  Sweet  health  and  fair  desires  consort  your  grace. 

King.  Thy  owa  wish  wish  I  thee  in  every  place  ! 
•  \Exeunt  King,  Officers,  R. 

Biron   [crossing  R.   and  saluting  B,osaline.'\    Lady,    I   will 
commend  you  to  my  own  heart. 

Ros.    Pray  you,  do  my  commendations ;    I  would  be  glad 
to  see  it. 

Biron.  I  would  you  heard  it  groan. — Ah ! 

Ros.  Is  the  fool  sick  ? 

Biron.  Sick  at  the  heart. 

Ros.  Alack,  let  it  bleed. 

Biron.  Would  that  do  it  good  ? 


Bos.  My  physic  says,  aye. 

Biron.   Now,  Heaven  save  thy  life. 

Hos.  And  yours  from  long  living.  [Bmis  ,,ff 

Bum.  {crossing  r.  to  Boyei\   Sir,  I  pray  you  a  word  •'  What 

lady  IS  that  same  ? 
Boytt.  The  heir  of  Alencon,  Rosaline  her  name 
Dvm    A  gallant  lady  !    Monsieur,  fare  you  well.    T^^.V   r 
Lon,  [crossing  to  Boyet\    I  beseech  you  a  word:    What  is 

she  in  the  white  ? 
Boyet.K  woman  sometimes,  if  you  saw  her  in  the  light 
Zon.  Perchance,  light  in  the  light :    I  desire  her  name  ' 
Boyet.    She  hath  but  one  for  herself;    to  desire  that,  were 

a  shame. 
Lon.  Pray  you.  sir,  whose  daughter  ? 
Boyet.  Her  mother's,  I  have  heard. 
Lon.  God's  blessing  on  your  beard  ! 
Boyet.   Good  sir,  be  not  offended  : 
She  is  an  heir  of  Falconbridge. 

Lon.  Nay,  my  choler  is  ended. 
She  is  a  most  sweet  lady. 

Boyet.  Not  unlike,  sir;   that  may  be. 

n  Axn    .5    ,  ^^^^''  Longaville,  r. 

JJum.   What  s  her  name  in  the  cap  ? 

Boyet.   Katharine,  by  good  hap. 

Bum.   Is  she  wedded  or  no  ? 

Boyet.  To  her  will,  sir,  or  so. 

Dvm.  You  are  welcome,  sir  ;    adieu  ! 

Boyet.  Farewell  to  me,  sir,  and  welcome  to  you 
\Ex^t  Dumain,  K.-The  Ladies  unmask  and  laugh  merrily 

Boyet  {laughing  with  others.-]    If  my   observation    (which 
very  seldom  lies) 
Deceive  me  not  now,  Navarre  is  infected. 

Pri.   Come,  to  our  pavilion  :   Boyet  is  disposed 
To  speak  that  in  words,  which  his  eye  hath  disclos'd 

Boyet.   Nay,  I'll  give  you  Aquitain  and  all  that  is  tis 
An  you  give  him  for  my  sake  one  lovino-  kiss 

Pri.   Oh  !  * 

{Exits  into  tent,  l.,  laughing,  followed  by  Katharine. 
Mas.  Thou  art  an  old  love-monger,  and  speak'st  skilfully. 


:3 


^far.  He  is  Cupid's  grandfather,  and  learns  news  of  him. 

[Exit  into  tent,  laughing. 
Boyet.  What,  then,  did  you  see  ? 

Ros.  Ay,  our  way  to  be  gone.       [Exit  into  tent,  laughing. 
Boyet.  You  are  too  hard  for  me.  [^Exit,  r. 


END    OF    ACT    n. 


ACT    UI. 


SCENE. — Another  part  of  the  Pari: — A  Dense  Wood. 
Enter  Armado  and  MoTH,  L.  u.  E. 

Arm.  Go,  tenderness  of  years  !  take  this  key,  give  enlarge- 
ment to  the  swain,  bring  him  festinately  hither  ;  I  must  em- 
ploy him  in  a  letter  to  my  love. 

Moth.  [Aside. ^  A  message  well  sympathized :  a  horse  to 
be  an  ambassador  for  an  ass  ! 

Arm.  Ha,  ha  !    what  sayest  thou? 

Moth.  Marry,  sir,  you  must  send  the  ass  upon  the  horse, 
for  he  is  very  slow-gaited  :    But  I  go. 

Arm.  The  way  is  but  short ;  away. 

Moth.  As  swift  as  lead,  sir. 

Arm.  Thy  meaning,  pretty  ingenious  ? 
Is  not  lead  a  metal  heavy,  dull,  and  slow  ? 

Moth.  Minime,  honest  master;    or  rather,  master,  no. 

Arm.  I  say,  lead  is  slow. 

Moth.  You  are  too  swift,  sir,  to  say  so  : 
Is  that  lead  slow  which  is  fired  from  a  gun  ? 

Arm.  Sweet  smoke  of  rhetoric  ! 
He  repute's  me  a  cannon  ;  and  the  bullet,  that's  he  :  — 
I  shoot  thee  at  the  swain. 

Moth.  I  flee.  [Exit,  l. 

Arm.  A  most  acute  juvenal ;  voluble  and  free  of  grace  ! 
But  thy  favour,  sweet  welkin,  I  must  sigh  in  thy  face  :        • 
Moist-eyed  melancholy,  valour  gives  thee  place. 
My  herald  is  returned. 

Re-gnter  !MoTH — -followed  by  CoSTARD,  crying. 

Moih.  Master,  here's  a  Costard  broken  in  a  shin. 


19 

Arm.  Come  hither,  come  hither:  and  tell  me  how  was 
there  a  Costard  broken  in  a  shin. 

Moth.   I  will  tell  you  sensibly. 

Cos.  [Putting  him  abided  Thou  hast  no  feeling  of  it,  Moth. 
I  will  speak  : 

I  Costard  running  out,  that  was  safely  within, 
Fell  over  the  threshold  and  broke  my  shin  I 

Arm.  We  will  talk  no  more  of  this  matter. 

Cos.  Till  there  be  more  matter  in  the  shin. 

Arm.  Sirrah  Costard,  marry  I  will  enfanchise  thee. 

Cos.  O  !    marry  me  to  one  Francis  ! 

Art7i.  By  my  sweet  soul  I  mean  setting  thee  at  liberty : 
Enfreedoming  thy  person  :  thou  wast  immured,  restrained, 
captivated,  bound. 

Cos.  True,  true  ;  I  know  you  will  be  my  purgation  and 
let  me  loose. 

Arm.  Sirrah  Costard,  I  give  thee  thy  liberty,  set  thee 
from  durance  ;  and,  in  lieu  thereof,  impose  on  thee  nothing 
but  this:  [Giving  him  a  letter,  which  het places  in  his  hat.^ 
Bear  this  significant  to  the  country -maid  Jaquenetta ;  [Giving 
him  money.']  there  is  remuneration ;  for  the  best  ward  of 
mine  honor  is  rewarding  my  dependants.     Moth,  follow. 

[Exit,  R. 

Moth.  Like  the  sequel,  I. — Signer  Costard,  adieu. 

[Exit,  R. 

Cos.  Now  will  I  look  to  this  remuneration.  Remunera- 
tion ?  O,  that's  the  Latin  word  for  three  farthings  :  three 
farthings — remuneration. 

Enter  BiRON,  L.  U.  E. 

Biron.   O,  my  good- knave.  Costard  !  exceedingly  well  met. 

Cos.  Pray  you,  sir,  how  much  carnation  ribbon  may  a 
man  buy  for  a  remuneration  ? 

Biron.  What  is  a  remuneration? 

Cos.  Marry,  sir,  half- penny  farthing. 

Biron.  O,  why  then,  three-farthings-worth  of  silk. 

Cos.  I  thank  your  worship  :   God  be  with  you  ! 

Biron.  O,  stay,  my  slave;  I  must  employ  thee: 
As  thou  wilt  win  my  favor,  good,  my  knave. 
Do  one  thinsf  for  me  that  I  shall  entreat. 


Cos.  Wlien  would  you  have  it  done,  sir  ? 

Biron.  O,  this  afternoon. 

Cos.  Well,  I  will  do  it,  sir:   Fare  you  well. 

Biron.  O,  thou  knowest  not  what  it  is. 

Cos.   I  shall  know,  sir,  when  I  have  done  it. 

Biron.  Why,  villain,  thou  must  know  first. 

Cos.   I  will  come  to  your  worship  to-morrow  morning. 

Biron.  It  must  be  done   this    afternoon.     Hark,   slave,  it 
is  but  this  ; — 
The  princess  comes  to  hunt  here  in  the  park, 
And  in  her  train  there  is  a  gentle  lady  ; 
When  tongue  speaks  sweetly,  then  they  name  her  name, 
And  Rosaline  they  call  her :  ask  for  her  ;    [  Giving  a  letter, 
which  Costard  places  on  o])posite  side  of  his  hat. 
And  to  her  white  hand  see  thou  do  commend 
This  seal'd  up  counsel.     \^Giving  him  money.']     There's  thy 
guerdon  ;  go.  \_Retires  vp  c. 

Cos.  Gardon, — O  sweet  gardon  !  better  than  remunera- 
tion ;  eleven-pence  farthing  better  :  Most  sweet  gardon  ! — 
I  will  do  it,  sir,  in  print. — Gardon — remuneration. 

\_Exit,  L. 

Biron.   [^Coming  forward,  c]     O  ! — And    I,    forsooth,    in 
ove?  I,  that  have  been  love's  whip. 
What  ?  I  !  I  love  !  I  sue  !  I  seek  a  wife  ! 
A  woman  that  is  like  a  German  clock. 
Still  a  repairing ;  ever  out  of  frame  ; 
And  never  going  aright. 
Nay,  to  be  perjur'd,  which  is  worst  of  all ; 
And,  among  three,  to  love  the  worst  of  all  ; 
A  whitely  wanton  with  a  velvet  brow. 
And  I  to  sigh  for  her  !  to  watch  for  her  ! 
To  pray  for  her  !     Go  to ;  its  a  plague 
That  Cupid  will  impose  for  my  neglect 
Of  his  almighty  dreadful  little  might. 
Well,  I  will  love,  write,  sigh,  pray,  sue,  and  groan  ; 
Some  men  must  love  my  lady,  and  some  Joan.    [^£Jxit,  l.  i.  e. 
Enter  the  Princess,  Rosaline,  Maria,  Katharine,  Boyet, 
Attendants,  and  a  Forester,  r.  u.  e. 

Pri.  (c. )  Was  that  the  king  that  spurr'd  his  horse  so  hard 
Against  the  steep  uprising  of  the  hill? 


31 

Boyet.   (l.  c.  )  I  know  not ;   but,  I  think,  it  was  not  he. 

Fri.   Whoe'er  he  was,  he  shew'd  a  mounting  mind. 
Well,  lords,  to-day  we  shall  have  our  despatch  : 
On  Saturday  we  will  return  to  France. — 
Then  forester,  my  friend,  where  is  the  bush, 
That  we  must  stand  and  play  the  murderer  in  ? 

For.  Here  by,  upon  the  edge  of  yonder  coppice ; 
A  stand,  where  you  may  make  the  fairest  shoot. 

[c.  cross,  pointing  off  L. 

Fri.  I  thank  my  beauty,  I  am  fair  that  shoot. 
And  thereupon  thou  speak'st,  the  fairest  shoot. 

For.  Pardon  me,  madam,  for  I  meant  not  so. 

Pri.  What,  what  ?  first  praise  me,  and  again  say,  no  ? 
O  short  liv'd  pride  !      Not  fair  ?  alack  for  woe  ! 

For.  Yes,  madam,  fair. 

Fri.  Nay,  never  paint  me  now  ; 

Where  fair  is  not,  praise  cannot  mend  the  brow. 
Here,  good  my  glass,  \_Giving  him  money, '\  take  this  for  tell- 
ing true  ; 
Fair  payment  for  foul  words  is  more  than  due. 

For.  Nothing  but  fair  is  that  which  you  inherit. 

Fri.  See,  see,  my  beauty  will  be  sav'd  by  merit. 
O  heresy  in  fair,  fit  for  these  days  ! 
A  giving  hand,  though  foul,  shall  have  fair  praise. — 
But  come,  the  bow.     [Boyet  is  about  to  lead  off  the  hunting 
party  towards  L.,  and  meets  Costard,  who  enters 
L.  with  a  letter. 

Boyet.  Here  comes  a  member  of  the  commonwealth. 

Cos.  Pray  you,  which  is  the  head  lady  ? 

Fri.  Thou  shalt  know  her,   fellow,  by  the  rest   that  have 
no  heads. 

Cos.  Which  is  the  greatest  lady,  the  highest  ? 

Fri.  The  thickest,  and  the  tallest  ? 

Cos.  The  thickest,  and  the  tallest !  it  is  so ;  truth  is  truth. 
Are  not  you  the  chief  woman  ?  you  are  the  thickest  here. 

Fri.  What's  your  will,  sir?  what's  your  will? 

Cos.   I  have  a  letter  from  monsieur  Biron,    to   one  lady 
Rosaline. 

Fri.  O,    thy    letter,  thy    letter ;    he's   a   good  friend    of 
mine :  \_Takes  the  letter. 


Stand  aside,  good  bearer. — Boyet,  you  can  carve; 

Break  up  this  capon.  [Gives  the  letter. 

Boyet.  I  am  bound  to  serve. — 

This  letter  is  mistook,  it  importeth  none  here ; 
It  is  writ  to  Jaquenetta. 

Pri.  We  will  read  it,  I  swear : 

Break  the  neck  of  the  wax,  and  every  one  give  ear. 

Boyet.  \_Reading.']  "By  heaven,  that  thou  art  fair  is  most 
infallible;  true,  that  thou  art  beauteous  ;  truth  itself ,  that  thou 
art  lovely  :  More  fairer  than  fair,  beautiful  than  beauteous, 
truer  than  truth  itself  ;  hove  commiseration  on  thy  heroical  vas- 
sal! The  viagnanimous  and  most  illustrate  king  Cophetua 
ets  eye  upon  the  pernicious  and  indubitate  beggar  Zenelophon  ; 
J  am  the  king  :  for  so  stands  the  comparison  :  thou  the  beggar  ; 
for  so  witnesseth  thy  lowliness.  Shall  I  command  thy  love? 
I  may :  Shall  I  enforce  thy  love  ?  I  could  :  Shall  I  entreat  thy 
love?  I  will:  What  shalt  thou  exchange  for  rags?  robes; 
For  tittles?  titles;  For  thyself ?  me.  Thus,  expecti7ig  thy 
reply,  I  profane  my  lips  on  thy  foot,  my  eyes  on  thy  picture, 
and  my  heart  on  thy  every  part.  Thine,  in  the  dearest  design 
of  industry,  DON  Adriano  DE  Armado." 

Fri.  What  plume  of  feathers  is  he  that  indited  this  letter  ? 
What  vane  ?  what  weathercock  ? 

Boyet.  I  am  much  deceived,  but  I  remember  the  style. 
This  Armado  is  a  Spaniard,  and  one  that  makes  sport 
To  the  prince,  and  his  book-mates. 

Fri.  Thou,  fellow,  a  word  : 
Who  gave  thee  this  letter  ?  / 

Cos.  I  told  you;  my  lord. 

Fri.  To  whom  shouldst  thou  give  it  ? 

Cos.   From  my  lord  to  my  lady. 

Fri.  From  which  lord,  to  which  lady  ? 

Cos.  From  my  lord  Biron,  a  good  master  of  mine ; 
Toa  lady  of  France,  that  he  call'd  Rosaline. 

Fri.  Thou  hast  mistaken  his  letter.     Come,  friends,  away. 
Here,  sweet,   [To  Bo. valine,']   put  up   this;    'twill    be   thine 
another  day.     [Exeunt  Princess    Katharine   and 
pages. 

Boyet.  [To  Ros.]  Who's  the  suitor?  who's  the  suitor? 


23 

Bos.  Shall  I  teach  you  to  know  ? 

Boyet.  Aye,  my  continent  of  beauty. 

Ros.  Why  she  that  bears  the  bow. 

Boyet.  My  lady  goes  to  kill  horns,  but  if  thou  marry, 
Hang  me  by  the  neck  if  horns  that  year  miscarry. 

Ros.  Well,  then,  I'm  the  shooter.  [Going. 

Royet.  And  who's  your  dear?  [Following  her. 

Ros.  If  we  choose  by  the  horns,  yourself,  come  not  near. 

Mar.  You  still  wrangle  with  her,  Boyet,  and  she  strikes 
at  the  brow.  [Exit  L. 

Ros.  Shall  I  come  upon  thee  with  an  old  saying.  That 
was  a  man,  when  King  Pepin  of  France  was  a  little  boy? 

Boyet.  So  I  may  answer  thee  with  one  as  old  :  That  was  a 
woman,  when  Queen  Guiniver  of  Britain  was  a  little  wench. 

Ros.   [Roguishly  taking  his  arm.'\  Thou  canst   not   hit   it, 
hit  it,  hit  it ; 
Thou  canst  not  hit  it,  my  good  man.  [Going 

Boyet.  [Detaining  her. '\   'An  I  cannot,  cannot,  cannot; 
'An  I  cannot,  another  can  !  [Exeunt  L. 

Cos.  By  my  soul,  a  swain,  a  most  simple  clown  ; 
Lord,  lord,  how  the  ladies  and  I  have  put  him  down  ! 
Oh !  my  troth,  most  sweet  jests  ! 
Armado,  o'  the  one  side  :   most  dainty  man  ; 
To  see  him  waltz  before  a  lady,  and  bear  her  fan  ! 
To  see  him  kiss  his  hand  :   and  how  most 

Sweetly  and  will  swear  ! 
Looking  babies  in  her  eyes  :  his  passion  to  declare  ! 
And  his  page  o'  t'other  side,  that  handful  of  small  wit. 
Oh  !   heavens,  it  is  a  most  pathetical  nit  ! 
Sola  !     Sola  !  [Exit  R.     Hunting  horns  heard  offi.. 

Enter  Sir  Nathaniel,  Holofernes,  and  Dull,  l. 

Sir  Nat.  Very  reverent  sport  truly,  and  done  in  the  testi- 
mony of  a  good  conscience.  Aye  :  deer  killing  is  reverent 
sport,  and  right  reverently  doth  the  Princess  pursue  it.  The 
deer  was  most  reverently  killed. 

Hoi.  [l.  c]  Aye;  the  deer  was,  as  you  know,  in  sanguis, 
— in  blood  ;  ripe  as  a  pomewater,  who  now  hangeth  like  a 
jewel  in  the  ear  of  ccelo, — the  sky,  the  welkin,  the  heaven  ; 


^4 

and  anon  falleth  like  a  crab,  on  the  face  of  terra, — the  soil, 
the  land,  the  earth. 

Nat.  Truly,  master  Holofernes,  the  epithets   are  sweetly 
varied,  like  a  scholar  at  the   least :     But,  sir,  I  assure   ye,  it 
was  a  buck  of  the  fifth  year;  a  buck  indeed  of  the  first  head. 
Hoi.  Sir  Nathaniel,  haud  credo. 

Dull,  [r.]  ^^wzs  x^o^.  2i  haud  credo  ;    'twas  a  pricket.* 
Hoi.  'Twice  sod  simplicity,  ^/j  ^^^/«i- / — O   thou    monster 
ignorance,  how  deformed  dost  thou  look  ! 

Nat.  Sir,  he  hath  never  fed  of  the  dainties  that  are  bred 
in  a  book;  he  hath  not  eat  paper,  as  it  were;  he  hath  not 
drunk  ink;  his  intellect  is  not  replenished;  he  is  on^y  an 
animal,  only  sensible  in  the  duller  parts. 

Dull.  You  two  are  book-men ;     Can  you  tell  by  your  wit, 
What  was  a  month  old  at  Cain's  birth,  that's  not    five  weeks 
old  as  yet? 
Hoi.   Dictynna,  good  man  Dull ;   Dictynna. 
Dull.  What  is  Dictynna? 
Nat.  A  title  to  Phoebe,  to  Luna,  to  the  moon. 
Hoi.  The  moon  was  a  month  old,  when   Adam  was   no 
more : 
And  not  five  weeks,  when  he  came  to  five-score. 
The  allusion  holds  in  the  exchange. 

Dull.  'Tis  true  indeed  ;  the    collusion   holds   in   the  ex- 
change. 
Hoi.  God  comfort  thy  capacity  !     I  say,  the  allusion  holds 

in  the  exchange. 
Dull.  And  I  say  the  pollusion  holds  in  the  exchange  ;    for 
the  moon  is  never  but  a  month  old  :   and  I  say  beside,  that 
'twas  a  pricket  that  the  princess  killed. 

Hoi.  Sir  Nathaniel,  will  you  hear  an  extemporal  epitaph 
on  the  death  of  the  deer,  and  to  humor  the  ignorant  I  have 
called  the  deer  the  princess  killed — a  pricket ! 

Nat.  Ferge,  go^d  master  Holofernes,  perge ;  so  it  shall 
please  you  to  abrogate  scurrility. 

Hoi.  I  will  something  affect  the  letter;  for  it  argues  facil- 
ity      \^Reads.'\  The  preyful  princess  pierced  and  pricked  a 
pretty  pleasing  pricket ; — 

*  Pricket:  i.  e.,  a  buck  of  the  .<: e cotid ys^r. 


25 

Some  say  a'  sore ;  but  not  a  sore   till  now  made  sore   with 

shooting. 
The  dogs  did  yell :  put  L  to   Love :   then  sorel  jumps    from 

thicket 
Or  pricket  sore,  or  else  sorel ;  the  people  fall  a  hooting. 
If  sore    be  sore:    then   L  to  sore,    make   fifty  sores;      O! 

sore  L 
Of  one  sore,  I  an  hundred  make — by  adding  one  more  L. 
Nat.  A  rare  talent  ! 

Hoi.  This  is  a  gift  that  I  have,  simple,  simple ;  a  foolish 
extravagant  spirit,  full  of  forms,  figures,  shapes,  objects, 
ideas,  apprehensions,  motions,  revolutions  :  these  are  begot 
in  the  ventricle  of  memory,  nourished  in  the  womb  of  pia 
mater,  and  deliver'd  upon  the  mellowing  of  occasion  :  But 
the  gift  is  good  in  those  in  whom  it  is  acute,  and  I  am  thank- 
ful for  it. 

Nat.  Sir,  I  praise  the  Lord  for  you  ;  and  so  may  my  pa- 
rishioners ;  for  their  sons  are  well  tutor'd  by  you,  and  their 
daughters  profit  very  greatly  under  you  :  you  are  a  good 
member  of  the  commonwealth. 

Hoi.  Mehercle,  if  their  sons  be  ingenious,  they  shall   want 

no  instruction  :    if  their  daughters  be  capable .     But,  vir 

sapit  quipauca  loquitur.     A  soul  feminine  saluteth  us. 
Enter  Jaquenetta  and  Costard  r. 

Jag.   God  give  you  good  morrow,  master  Person. 

Hnl.  Master  Per-son  1  quasi,  pers-on  ?  an  if  one  should  be 
pierced  which  is  the  one. 

Cos.  Marry  good  master — schoolmaster  he  that  is  like  to 
a  hogshead  ! 

Jag.  Good  master  Parson,  be  so  good  as  read  me  this  let- 
ter ;  it  was  given  me  by  Costard,  and  sent  me  from  Don 
Armatho  ;  I  beseech  you,  read  it.  \_Gives  it  to  Nathaniel. 

Hoi.  Under  pardon,  sir,  what  are  the  contents '?  Or  rather 
as  Horace  says  in  his — What,  my  soul,  verses  ? 

Nat.  Ay,  sir,  and  very  learned. 

Hoi.  Let  me  hear  a  staff,  a  stanza,  a  verse  ;    Lege   domine. 

Nat. 

If  love    make    me    forsworn,    how  shall  I  swear  to  love  ? 
Ah,  never  faith  could  hold,  if  not  to  beauty  vowed  ! 


26 

Though  to  myself  forsworn,  to  thee  I'll  faithful  prove  ; 
Those  thoughts  to  me  were  oaks, 

Hoi.  [^Interrupting  him.']  You  find  not  the  apostrophes, 
and  so  miss  the  accent ;  let  me  supervise  the  canzonet.  But 
damosella  virgin,  was  this  directed  to  you? 

Jag.  Ay,  sir. 

Hoi.  I  will  overglance  the  superscript.  \_Reading.']  "  To 
the  snow  tohite  hand  of  the  most  beauteous  Lady  RosalineJ^ 

I  will  look  again  on  the  intellect  of  the  letter,  for  the  nom- 
ination of  the  party  writing  to  the  person  written  unto  : 
[Reading^  "  Your  Ladyship^ s  in  all  desired  employment, 
BiRON."  Sir  Nathaniel,  this  Biron  is  one  of  the  votaries 
with  the  king;  and  here  he  hath  framed  a  letter  to  a  sequent 
of  the  stranger  queen's  which,  accidentally,  or  by  the  way 
of  progression,  hath  miscarried.  \_To  Jaquennetta.']  Trip 
and  go,  my  sweet ;  deliver  this  paper  into  the  royal  hand  of 
the  king  ;  it  may  concern  much  :  Stay  not  thy  compliment ; 
I  forgive  thy  duty  ;    adieu. 

Jaq.  Good  Costard,  go  with  me. — Sir,  God  save  your 
life! 

Cos.  Have  with  thee  my  girl. 

[Exeunt  Costard  and  Jaquenetta,  R. 

Nat.  Sir,  you  have  done  this  in  the  fear  of  God,  very  re- 
ligiously ;    and  as  a  certain  father  saith 

Hoi.  Sir,  tell  not  me  of  the  father.  [Grossing  to  l.  c] 
But,  to  return  to  the  verses ;  Did  they  please  you,  Sir  Na- 
thaniel ? 

Nat.  Marvellous  well  for  the  pen. 

Hoi.  I  do  dine  to-day  at  the  father's  of  a  certain  pupil  of 
mine  ;  where  if,  before  repast,  it  shall  please  you  to  gratify 
the  table  with  a  grace,  I  will,  on  u^y  privilege  I  have  with 
the  parents  of  the  aforesaid  child  or  pupil,  undertake  and 
your  ben  venuto  ;  where  I  will  prove  those  verses  to  be  un- 
learned, neither  sovouring  of  poetry,  Avit,  nor  invention.  I 
beseech  your  society. 

Nat.  And  thank  you  too  ;  for  society  (saith  the  text)  is 
the  happiness  of  life. 

Hoi.  And,  certes,  the  text  most  infallibly  concludes  it. — 
[To  Dull.]  Sir,  I  do   invite    you  too  ;  you  shall  not  say  me. 


27 

nay :  pauca  verba.']  Runtiag  horns  heard  without.']  Away, 
the  gentles  are  at  their  game,  and  we  will  to  our  recreation. 

lExeunt,  L. 
Elder  BiRON  with  a  paper,  R.  u.  E. 

Biron.  I  will  not  love  :  if  I  do  hang  me  ;  i'faith  I  will  not. 
O,  but  her  eye, — by  this  light,  but  for  her  eye,  I  would  not 
love  her ;  yes,  for  her  two  eyes.  Well,  I  do  nothing  in  the 
world  but  lie,  and  lie  in  my  throat.  By  heaven,  I  do  love  : 
and  it  hath  taught  me  to  rhyme,  and  to  be  melancholy  ;  and 
here  is  part  of  my  rhyme,  and  here  my  melancholy.  Well, 
she  hath  one  o'  my  sonnets  already  :  the  clown  bore  it,  the 
fool  sent  it,  and  the  lady  hath  it  :  sweet  clown,  sweeter  fool, 
sweetest  lady  !  By  the  world,  I  would  not  care  a  pin  if  the 
other  three  were  in  love  as  I ;  and  as  forsworn  as  I.  Here 
comes  one  with  a  paper  ;  Heaven   give   him  grace  to  groan. 

\_Clitnbs  up  into  a  tree» 
Eater  the  King  with  a  paper,  r. 

King.   Ah  me  ! 

Biron.  [^Aside.]  Shot  by  heaven  ! 

King .   \_Rea din g .  ] 

So  sweet  a  kiss  the  golden  sun  gives  not 

To  those  fresh  morning  drops  upon  the  rose. 
As  thy  eye  beams,  when  iheir  fresh  rays  have  smote 

The  night  of  dew  that  on  my  cheeks  down  flows; 
Nor  shines  the  silver  moon  one  half  so  bright 

Through  the  transparent  bosom  of  the  deep, 
As  doth  thy  face  through  tears  of  mine  give  light. 

Thou  shin'st  in  every  tear  that  I  do  weep  ; 
No  drop  but  as  a  coach  doth  carry  thee, 

So  ridest  thou  triumphing  in  my  woe  : 
Do  but  behold  the  tears  cf  that  swell  in  me. 

And  they  thy  glory  through  my  grief  will  shew  ; 
But  do  not  love  thyself;  then  thou  wilt  keep 
My  tears  for  glasses,  and  still  make  me  weep, 
O  queen  of  queens,  how  far  dost  thou  excel ! 
No  thought  can  think,  nor  tongue  of  mortal  tell.— 

How  shall  she  know  my  griefs  ?    I'll  drop  the  paper, 
And  she  may  find  it  in  her  stroll.     [Re  is  about  to  drop  the 
scroll,  but,  seeing  Longaville  approach,  stojys. 
Sweet  leaves  shade  folly.  ^Looking  off,  l.]     Who  is  he  come 
here  ?  [Retires,  R.  s.  E. 

Enter  Longaville,  tvith  a  paper,  l. 
What,  Longaville,  and  reading !   listen,   ear. 


•  28 

Biron.  [^Aside.']  Now,  in  thy  likeness  one   more  fool    ap- 
pear ! 

Lon.  Ah  me  !     I  am  forsworn. 

King.  \^Adde.'\    In   love,    I   hope;    sweet    fellowship   in 
shame. 

Biron.   \^Aside.'\   One  drunkard  loves  another  of  the  name. 

Lon.  Am  I  the  first  that  have  been  perjur'd  so ! 

Biron.   [^Aside."]  I  could  put  thee  in  comfort ;  not  by  two, 
that  I  know : 

Lon.  I  fear,  these  stubborn  lines  lack  power  to  move : 
O  sweet  Maria,  empress  of  my  love  ! 
These  numbers  will  I  tear  and  write  in  prose. 

Lon.  [^Reads. 

Did  not  the  he3venly  rhetoric  of  thine  eye 

('Gainst  whom  the  world  cannot  hold  argument) 
'  Persuade  my  heart  to  this  false  perjury? 

Vows  for  thee  broke  deserve  not  punishment. 
A  woman  I  forswore  ;  but,  I  will  prove. 

Thou  being  a  goddess,  I  forswore  not  thee  : 
My  vow  was  earthly,  thou  a  heavenly  love; 

Thy  grace  being  gained,  cures  all  disgrace  in  me. 
Vows  are  but  breath,  and  breath  a  vapor  is ; 

Then  thou,  fair  sun,  which  on  my  earth  dost  shine; 
Exhal'st  this  vapour  vow  ;  in  thee  it  is  ; 

If  broken  then,  it  is  no  fault  of  mine. 
If  by  me  broke.     What  fool  is  not  so  wise. 
To  lose  an  oath  to  win  a  paradise  ? 

Biron.  l^Aside."]    This  is  the  liver  vein,   which  makes  flesh 
a  deity : 
A  green  goose,  a  goddess  : 
God  mend  us  !   we  are  much  out  o*  the  way. 

Lon.  By  whom  shall  I  send  this? — Company  !  stay. 

[^Retires,  L.  u.  E.,  as  Dumain  enters,  R. 
Biron.    \^Aside.'\   More  sacks  to  the  'mill !     O    heavens,    I 
have  my  wish ; 
Dumain  transform'd  :    four  woodcocks  in  a  dish  ! 
Bum.  O  most  divine  Kate ! 
Biron.    \^Aside.'\   O  most  profane  coxcomb ! 
Bum.   As  fair  as  day. 
Biron.   \^Aside.']  Ay,  as  some  days  ;   but  then  no  sun  must 

shine. 
Bum.   O  that  I  had  my  wi.sh  ! 
Lon.    \^Aside.'\  And  I  had  mine  ! 


39 

King.    \_Aside.']  And  I  mine,  too. 

Biron.  l^Aside.']   Amen,  so  I  had  mine. 

Dum.    Once  more  I'll  read  the  ode  that  I  have  writ. 

Biron.   \_A!iide.'\  Once  more  I'll  mark  how   love  can  vary 

wit. 
Dum. 

On  a  day,  (Alack  the  day!) 

Love,  whose  month  is  ever  May, 

Spied  a  blossom,  passing  fair. 

Playing  in  the  wanton  air  ; 

Through  the  velvet  leaves  the  wind. 

All  unseen,  'gan  passage  find  ; 

That  the  lover,  sick  to  death, 

Wish'd  himself  the  heaven's  breath. 

Air,  quoth  he,  thy  cheeks  may  blow ; 

Air,  would  I  might  triumph  so  ! 

But  alack,  my  hand  is  sworn, 

Ne'er  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn. 

Vow,  alack,  for  youth  unmeet]; 

Youth  so  apt  to  pluck  a  sweet. 

Do  not  call  it  sin  in  me, 

■ftat  I  am  forsworn  for  thee ; 

Thou  for  whom  ev'n  Jove  would  swear, 

Juno  but  an  Ethiop  were,; 

And  deny  himself  for  Jove, 

Turning  mortal  for  thy  love. 

This  will  I  send ;  and  something  else  more  plain, 
That  shall  express  my  true  love's  fasting  pain. 
O,  would  the  King,  Biron,  and  Longaville, 
Were  lovers  too  !     Ill,  to  example  ill, 
Would  from  my  forehead  wipe  a  perjur'd  note  ; 
For  none  offend,  where  all  alike  do  dote. 

Lo7i.   \_Advancing.'\  Dumain,  thy  love  is  far  from  charity, 
That  in  love's  grief  desirs't  society; 
You  may  look  pale,  but  I  should  blush,  I  know. 
To  be  o'erheard,  and  taken  napping  so. 

King.   {Advancing,  c]  Come,  sir,  you  blush  3  as  his  your 
case  is  such ; 
You  chide  at  him,  offending  twice  as  much  : 
You  do  not  love  Maria ;  Longaville 
Did  never  sonnet  for  her  sake  compile ; 
Nor  never  lay  his  wreathed  arms  athwart 
His  loving  bosom,  to  keep  down  his  heart. 
I  have  been  closely  shrouded  in  this  bush, 
And  mark'd  you  both,  and  for  you  both  did  blush. 


I  heard  your  guilty  rhymes,  observed  your  fashion, 

Ah  me  !  says  one ;  O  Jove  !  the  other  cries ; 

[To  Lo7igaville.'\  You  would   for  paradise  break  faith   and 

troth ; 
\^To  Dn7nain.'\  And  Jove,  for   your  love,  would  infringe  an 

oath. 
What  will  Biron  say,  when  that  he  shall  hear 
Of  faith  infring'd  which,  such  a  zeal  did  swear? 
How  will  he  scorn  ?  how  will  he  spend  his  wit  ? 
How  will  he  triumph,  leap,  and  laugh  at  it  ? 
For  all  the  wealth  that  ever  I  did  see, 
I  would  not  have  him  know  so  much  by  me. 

Biron.   {Aside. ~\  Now  step  I  forth  to  whip  hypocrisy. — 

{Descends  from  the  tree,  and  advances. 
Ah,  good  my  liege,  I  pray  thee  pardon  me  : 
Good  heart,  what  grace  hast  thou,  thus  to  reprove 
These  worms  for  loving,  that  are  most  in  love  ? 
Your  eyes  do  make  no  coaches ;  in  your  tears. 
There  is  no  certain  princess  that  appears : 
You'll  not  be  perjured,  'tis  a'hateful  thing; 
Tush,  none  but  minstrels  like  of  sonneting. 
But  are  you  not  ashamed  ?  nay,  are  you  not, 
All  three  of  you,  to  be  thus  much  o'ershot? 
O,  what  a  scene  of  foolery  have  I  seen, 
Of  sighs,  of  groans,  of  sorrow,  and  of  teen  ! 

0  me,  with  what  strict  patience  have  I  sat 
To  see  a  king  transformed  to  a  gnat  1 

Where  lies  thy  grief,  O  tell  me,  good  Dumain? 
And,  gentle  Longaville,  where  lies  thy  pain? 
And  Where's  my  liege's?  all  about  the  breast : — 
A  caudle,  ho  ! 

King.  Too  bitter  in  thy  jest. 
Are  we  betray'd  thus  to  thy  over-view? 

Biron.  Not  you  by  me,  but  I  betray'd  to  you  : 
T,  that  am  honest ;  that  I  hold  it  sin 
To  break  the  vow  I  am  engaged  in  \ 

1  am  betray'd,  by  keeping  company 

With  moonlike  men  of  strange  inconstancy. 
When  shall  you  see  me  write  a  thing  in  rhyme? 


Or  groan  for  Joan  ? 
When  shall  you  hear  that  1 
Will  praise  a  hand,  a  foot,  a  face,  an  eye, 
A  gait,  a  state,  a  brow,  a  breast,  a  waist, 
A  leg,  a  limb  ? — 

\_£Jnter   Jaquenette   and    Costard ;  Biron   is  about  to   run   off. 

The  King  stops  him. 

King.  Soft ;  Whither  away  so  fast  ? 
A  true  man,  or  a  thief,  that  gallops  so  ? 

Biron.  I  post  from  love  ;  good  lover,  let  me  go. 

Jaq.  God  bless  the  king  ! 

King.  What  present  hast  thou  there  ? 

Cos.  Some  certain  treason. 

King.   What  makes  treason  here? 

Cos.  Nay,  it  makes  nothing,  sir. 

King.  If  it  mar  nothing,  neither. 
The  treason,  and  you,  go  in  peace  away  together. 

Jaq.   \_Kneeling .']  I  beseech  your  grace,  let   this   letter  be 
read; 
Our  parson  misdoubts  it ;  it  was  treason,  he  said. 

King.   \_Giving  the  letter.']   Biron,  read  it  over. 
\To  Jaquenetta.]  Where  hadst  thou  it? 

Jaq.  Of  Costard. 

King.   [7>>  Costard.]   Where  hadst  thou  it  ? 

Cos.   Of  Dun  Adramadio,  Dun  Adramadio. 

\_Biron  tears  the  letter. 

King.  How  now  !   what  is  in  you?  why  dost  thou  tear  it? 

Biron.  A  toy,  my  liege,  a  toy  ;  your  grace  needs  not  fear  it. 

Lon.  It  did  move  him  to  passion,  and  therefore  let's  hear  it. 

Bum.  \_Picking   up  the  pieces.]  It  is  Biron' s  writing,  and 
here  is  h.is  name. 

Biron.   \_To  Costard.]  Ah,  you   loggerhead,  you  were  born 
to  do  me  shame. — 
Guilty,  my  lord,  guilty ;  I  confess,  I  confess. 

King.  What? 

Biron.  That  you  three  fools  lacked  me  fool  to  make  up  the 
mess ; 
He,  he,  and  you  ;  and  you,  my  liege,  and  I, 
Are  pick-purses  in  love,  and  we  deserve  to  die. 
O,  dismiss  this  audience,  and  I  shall  tell  you  more. 


39 

King.  Hence,  sirs,  away. 

Cos.   Walk  aside  the  true  folk,  and  let  the  traitors  stay. 

[^Exeunt  Costard  and  Jaquenetta,  L. 
Biron.   Sweet  lords,  sweet  lovers,  O  let  us  embrace  ! 
As  true  we  are,  as  flesh  and  blood  can  be : 
The  sea  will  ebb  and  flow,  heaven  shew  his  face ; 
Young  blood  doth  not  obey  an  old  decree  : 
We  cannot  cross  the  cause  why  we  are  born  ; 
Therefore,  of  all  hands  must  we  be  forsworn. 

King.  What,  did  these  rent  lines  show  some  love[of  thine  ? 
Biron.    Did  they,   quoth  you?      Who  sees  the  heavenly 
Rosaline  ? 
That,  like  a  rude  and  savage  man  of  Inde, 

At  the  first  opening  of  the  gorgeous  east, 
Bows  not  his  vassal  head  ;  and,  strucken  blind, 

Kisses  the  base  ground  with  obedient  breast? 
What  peremptory  eagle-sighted  eye 

Dares  look  upon  the  heaven  of  her  brow, 
That  is  not  blinded  by  her  majesty  ? 
King.  What  zeal,  what  fury  hath  inspir'd  thee  now? 
My  love,  her  mistress,  is  a  gracious  moon  ; 

She,  an  attending  star,  scarce  seen  a  light. 
Biron.  My  eyes  are  then  no  eyes,  nor  I  Biron  : 
O,  but  for  my  love,  day  would  turn  to  night ! 
To  things  of  sale  a  seller's  praise  belongs  ; 

She  passes  praise :  then  praise  too  short  doth  blot. 
A  wither'd  hermit,  five-score  winters  worn, 

Might  shake  off  fifty,  looking  in  her  eye : 
Beauty  doth  varnish  age,  as  if  new-born. 

And  gives  the  crutch  the  cradle's  infancy. 
King.  By  heaven  thy  love  is  black  as  ebony. 
Biron.  Is  ebony  like  her?  O,  wood  divine  ! 
A  wife  of  such  wood  were  felicity. 
O,  who  can  give  an  oath  ?  where  is  the  book  ? 

That  I  may  swear,  beauty  doth  beauty  lack : 
If  that  she  learn  not  of  her  eye  to  look : 

No  face  is  fair,  that  is  not  full  so  black. 
King.   But  what  of  this  ?     Are  we  not  all  in  love  ? 
Biron.  Nothing  so  sure;  and  thereby  all  foresworn. 


^9, 

King.  Then  leave  this  chat;   and,  good  Biron,  now  prove 
Our  loving  lawful,  and  our  faith  not  torn. 

Bum.   Ay,  marry,  give  some  flattery  for  this  evil. 

Lon.  O,  some  authority  how  to  proceed ; 
Some  tricks,  some  quillets,  how  to  cheat  the  devil. 

Bum.   Some  salve  for  perjury. 

Bircn.  O,  'tis  more  than  need  ! — 
Have  at  you  then,  affection's  men  at  arms : 
Consider,  what  you  first  did  swear  unto ; — 
To  fast, — to  study, — and  to  see  no  woman  ; — 
Flat  treason  'gainst  the  kingly  state  of  youth. 
Say,  can  you  fast  ?  your  stomachs  are  too  young ; 
And  abstinence  engenders  maladies. 
Now,  for  not  looking  on  a  woman's  face. 
You  have  in  that  forsworn  the  use  of  eyes  ; 
And  study  too,  the  causer  of  your  vow  : 
For  where  is  any  other  in  the  world, 
Teaches  such  beauty  as  a  woman's  eye? 
O,  we  have  made  a  vow  to  study,  lords  ; 
And  in  that  vow  we  have  forsworn  our  books ; 
For  when  would  you  my  liege,  or  you,  or  you, 
In  leaden  contemplation,  have  found  out 
Such  fiery  numbers,  as  the  prompting  eyes 
Of  beauty's  tutors  have  enrich'd  you  with? 
Other  slow  arts  entirely  keep  the  brain  ; 
And  therefore  finding  barren  practisers. 
Scarce  shew  a  harvest  of  their  heavy  toil : 
But  love,  first  learned  in  a  lady's  eyes. 
Lives  not  alone  immured  in  the  brain ; 
It  adds  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye  ; 
A  lover's  eyes  will  gaze  an  eagle  blind  ; 
A  lover's  ear  will  hear  the  lowest  sound, 
When  the  suspicious  head  of  theft  is  stopp'd  j 
Love's  feeling  is  more  soft,  and  sensible, 
Than  are  the  tender  horns  of  cockled  snails ; 
And,  when  love  speaks,  the  voice  of  all  the  gods 
Makes  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony. 
Never  durst  poet  touch  a  pen  to  write. 
Until  his  ink  were  temper'd  with  love's  sighs. 


34 

From  woman's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive  : 
They  sparkle  still  the  right  Promethean  fire ; 
They  are  the  books,  the  arts,  the  academes, 
That  shew,  contain,  and  nourish  all  the  world; 
Then  fools  you  were  these  women  to  forswear ; 
Or,  keeping  what  is  sworn,  you  will  prove  fools. 

King.  Saint  Cupid,  then  !  and  soldiers,  to  the  field  ! 

Biron.  Advance  your  standards,  and  upon  them,  lords  ! 

Lon.  Shall  we  resolve  to  woo  these  girls  of  France? 

King.  And  win  them  too :   therefore  let  us  devise 
Some  entertainment  for  them  in  their  tents. 
First,  from  the  park  let  us  conduct  them  thither; 
Then,  homeward,  every  man  attach  the  hand 
Of  his  fair  mistress:   in  the  afternoon 
We  will  with  some  strange  pastime  solace  them, 
Such  as  the  shortness  of  the  time  can  shape ; 
For  revels,  dances,  masks,  and  merry  hours, 
Fore -run  fair  Love,  strewing  her  way  with  flowers. 

\_Ex&unt,  R.  u.  E. 

END    OF   ACT    III. 


ACT.   IV. 

SCENE  I.— The  Old  Palace  in  the  Park. 
Enter  Holofernes,  Sir  Nathaniel,  and  Dull,  r. 

Nat.  (c.)  I  praise  heaven  for  you,  sir;  your  reasons  at 
dinner  have  been  sharp  and  sententious ;  pleasant  without 
scurrility,  witty  without  affection,  audacious  without  impu- 
<iency,  learned  without  opinion,  and  strange  without  heresy. 
I  did  converse  this  quondam  day  with  a  companion  of  the 
king's,  who  is  intituled,  nominated,  or  called,  Don  Adriano 
de  Armado. 

IIoL  (l.  c.)  Novi  hominem  tanquam  te :  His  humour  is 
lofty,  his  discourse  peremptory,  his  tongue  filed,  his  eye  am- 
bitious, his  gait  majeslical,  and  his  general  behaviour  vain, 
ridiculous,  and  thrasonical.  I  abhor  such  fanatical  fantasms, 
buch  insociable  and  point-devise  companions ;  such  racker.s 


55 

of  orthography,  he  clepeth  a  calf,  cauf;  half,  hauf;  neigh- 
bour, nebour  ;  neigh,  abbreviated,  ne;  This  is    abominable 
(which  he  would  call  abhominable),  it  insinuateth  me  of  in- 
sanie ;  Ne  inielUgis  domine?  to  make  frantic,  lunatic. 
Enter  Armado,  Moth,  and  Costard,  l. 

Arm.    Men  of  peace,  well  encountcr'd. 

Hoi.  Most  military  sir,  salutation. 

Moth.  \_Apart  to  Costard.']  They  have  been  at  a  great  feast 
of  languages,  and  stolen  the  scraps. 

Cos.  O,  they  have  lived  long  on  the  alms-basket  of  words  ! 
I  marvel,  thy  master  hath  not  eaten  thee  for  a  word ;  for 
thou  art  not  so  long  by  the  head  a^  konori^cubilitudinitatibus  : 
thou  art  easier  swallowed  than  a  flapdragon. 

M'lth.  Peace;  the  peal  begins. 

Arm.  [7b  Ilulo/ernes.]  Monsieur,  do  you  not  educate 
youth  at  the  charge  house  on  the  top  of  the  mountain? 

Ifol.  I  do,  sans  question. 

Arm.  Sir,  it  is  the  king's  most  sweet  pleasure  and  affec- 
tion, to  congratulate  the  princess  at  her  pavillion,  in  the 
posteriors  of  this  day;  which  the  rude  multitude  call  the 
afternoon. 

Hot.  The  posterior  of  the  day,  most  generous  sir,  is  liable, 
congruent,  and  measurable  for  the  afternoon  :  the  word  is 
well  cull'd,  chose ;  sweet  and  apt,  I  do  assure  you,  sir,  I  do 
assure. 

Arm.  Sir,  the  king  is  a  noble  gentleman  ;  and  my  familiar, 
I  do  assure  you,  very  good  friend  : — For  what  is  inward  be- 
tween us,  let  it  pass : — I  do  beseech  thee,  remember  thy 
courtesy: — I  beseech  thee,  apparel  thy  head: — And  among 
other  importunate  and  most  serious  designs, — and  of  great 
import  indeed,  too; — but  let  that  pass; — for  I  must  tell  thee, 
it  will  please  his  grace  (by  the  world.)  sometime  to  lean  upon 
my  poor  shoulder;  and  with  his  royal  finger,  thus,  dally  with 
my  mustachio  :  but,  sweet  heart,  let  that  pass.  The  very  all 
of  nil  is, — but,  sweet  heart,  I  do  implore  secrecy, — that  the 
king  would  have  me  present  the  princess,  sweet  chuck,  with 
some  delightful  ostentation,  or  show,  or  pageant,  or  antic, 
or  fire-work.  Now,  understanding  that  the  curate  and  your 
sweet  self  are  good  at  such  eruptions,  and  sudden  breaking 


S6 

out  of  mirth,  as  it  were,  I  have  acquainted  you  withal,  to  the 
end  to  crave  your  assistance. 

Hoi.  Sir,  you  shall  present  before  her  the  nine  worthies. 
Nat.  Where  will  you  find  men   worthy  enough  to  present 
them  ? 

Hoi.  Joshua,  yourself;  myself,  or  this  gallant  gentleman, 
Judas  Maccabaeus ;  this  swain,  because  of  his  great  limb  or 
joint,  shall  pass  Pompey  the  Great ;  the  page,  Hercules. 

Arm.  Pardon,  sir,  error :   he  is  not  quantity  enough   for 

that  worthy's  thumb  :   he  is  not  so  big  as  the  end  of  his  club. 

Hoi.  Shall  I  have  audience  ?    he  shall  present  Hercules  in 

minority  :  his  enter  and  exit  shall  be  strangling  a  snake  ;  and 

I  will  have  an  apology  for  that  purpose. 

Moth.  An  excellent  device  !  so,  if  any  of  the  audience 
hiss,  you  may  cry :  Well  done,  Hercules  !  now  thou  crushest 
the  snake  !  this  is  the  way  to  make  an  offence  gracious  ; 
though  few  have  the  grace  to  do  it. 

Arm.  We  will  have,  if  this  fadge  not,  an  antic.  I  beseech 
you,  follow. 

Hoi.  Via,  goodman  Dull !  thou  hast  spoken  no  word  all 
this  while. 

Dull.   Nor  understood  none  neither,  sir. 
Hoi.  Allons !  we  will  employ  thee. 

[^Exeunt,  l. 
SCENE  II.— The  Princess's  Tent. 
The  Princess  discovered  at  table,  r.,  attended  by  Rosaline, 
Maria,  and  Katharine.     A  casket  is  itpo7i  the  table  near 
the  Princess. 

I'ri.  (r.  c.)  Sweet  hearts,  we  shall  be  rich  ere  we  depart. 
If  fairings  come  thus  plentifully  in  : 
A  lady  walFd  about  with  diamonds  ! 

[Shoiviiiff  a.  diamond  armlet. 
Look  you,  what  I  have  from  the  loving  king. 

Bos.  (R.)  Madam,  came  nothing  else  along  with  that? 
Fri.  Nothing,  but  this ;  yes,  as  much  love  in  rhyme, 
As  would  be  cramm'd  up  in  a  sheet  of  paper, 
Writ  on  both  sides  of  the  leaf,  margent  and  all ; 
But  Rosaline,  you  have  a  favour  too ; 
Who  sent  it?   and  what  is  it ? 


37 

Ros.  I  would,  you  knew ; 
An  if  my  face  were  but  as  fair  as  yours, 
My  favour  were  as  great ;  be  witness  this. 

\_Shows  a  pearl  ornament. 
Nay,  I  have  verses  too,  I  thank  Biron  : 
The  numbers  true ;  and,  were  the  numb'ring  too, 
I  were  the  fairest  goddess  on  the  ground  : 
I  am  compar'd  to  twenty  thousand  fairs. 
O,  he  hath  drawn  my  picture  in  his  letter  ! 

Fri.  Any  thing  like  ? 

Mos.  Much  in  the  letters :    nothing  in  the  praise. 

Fri.  \^To  Katharine.']   But  what  was  sent  to  you  from  fair 
Dumain  ? 

Kat.  (l.  c.)  Madam,  this  glove. 

Fri.  Did  he  not  send  you  twain  ? 

Kat.  Yes,  madam  ;  and  moreover, 
Some  thousand  verses  of  a  faithful  lover. 

Mar.  (l.)  This,  and  these  pearls,  to  me  sent  Longaville ; 
The  letter  is  too  long  by  half  a  mile. 

Fri.  I  think  no  less :   Dost  thou  not  wish  in  heart, 
The  chain  were  longer,  and  the  letter  short  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  or  I  would  these  hands  might  never  part. 

Fri.   We  are  wise  girls,  to  mock  our  lovers  so. 

Ros.  They  are  worse  fools  to  purchase  mocking  so. 
That  same  Biron  I'll  torture  ere  I  go, 
And  make  him  fawn,  and  beg,  and  seek, 
And  wait  the  season,  and  observe  the  times, 
And  spend  his  prodigal  wits  in  bootless  rhymes; 
And  shape  his  service  wholly  to  my  behests ; 
And  make  him  proud  to  make  me  proud  that  jests  ! 
So  portent-like  would  I  o'ersway  his  state. 
That  he  should  be  my  fool  and  I  his  fate. 

Enter  BoYET,  laujhing,  L. 

Fri.  Here  comes  Boyet,  and  mirth  is  in  his  face. 

Boyet.   O,  I  am  stabb'd  with  laughter  !  Where's  her  grace? 

Fri.  Thy  news,  Boyet? 

Boyet.  Prepare,  madam,  prepare  ! 

Arm,  wenches,  arm  !  encounters  mounted  are 
Against  your  peace  :   Love  doth  approach  disguis'd, 


58 

Armed  in  arguments;  you'll  be  surpris'd  : 
Muster  your  wits ;  stand  in  your  own  defence  ; 
Or  hide  your  heads  like  cowards  and  fly  hence. 

Pri.  Saint  Dennis  to  Saint  Cupid  !     What  are  they,- 
That  charge  their  breath  against  us?  say,  scout,  say. 

Boyet.  Under  the  cool  shade  of  a  sycamore, 
I  thought  to  close  mine  eyes  some  half  an  hour, 
When,  lo  !  to  interrupt  my  purpos'd  rest, 
Toward  that  shade  I  did  behold  addrest 
The  king  and  his  companions  :  warily 
I  stole  into  a  neighbour  thicket  by, 
And  overheard  what  you  shall  overhear ; 
That,  by  and  by,  disguis'd  they  will  be  here. 
Their  herald  is  a  pretty  knavish  page, 
.  That  well  by  heart  hath  conn'd  his  embassage  : 
Action,  and  accent,  did  they  teach  him  there ; 
"Thus  must  thou  speak,  and  thus  thy  body  bear:" 
And  ever  and  anon  they  would  make  a  doubt. 
Presence  majestical  would  put  him  out ; 
"  For,"  quoth  the  king,  "An  angel  shalt  thou  see; 
Yet  fear  not  thou,  but  speak  audaciously." 
The  boy  reply'd,  "An  angel  is  not  evil; 
I  should  have  fear'd  her  had  she  b^en  a  devil." 
With  that  all  laugh'd,  and  clapp'a  him  on  the  shoulder; 
Making  the  bold  wag  by  their  praises  bolder. 
One  rubb'd  his  elbow,  thus;  and  fleer'd,  and  swore, 
A  better  speech  was  never  spoke  before ; 
Another  Avith  his  finger  and  his  thumb, 
Cry'd,  "Via  !  we  will  do't,  come  what  will  come:" 
The  third  he  caper'd  and  cried,  "All  goes  well;" 
The  fourth  turn'd  on  the  toe,  and  down  he  fell. 
With  that,  tliey  all  did  tumble  on  the  ground. 
With  such  a  zealous  laughter,  so  profound, 
That  in  this  spleen  ridiculous  appears, 
To  check  their  folly,  passion's  solemn  tears. 
Pri.  But  what,  come  they  to  visit  us? 
Boyet.  They  do,  they  do;   and  are  apparel'd  thus, — 
Like  Muscovites,  or  Russians,  as  I  guess. 
Their  purpose  is,  to  parle,  to  court,  and  dance : 


39 

And  every  one  his  love-feat  will  advance 
Unto  his  several  mistress  :   which  they'll  know 
By  favours  several,  which  they  did  bestow. 

Fri.  And  will  they  so?  the  gallants  shall  be  tasked  : — 
For,  ladies,  we  will  every  one  be  mask'd  ; 
And  not  a  man  of  them  shall  have  the  grace, 
Despite  of  suit,  to  see  a  lady's  face. 
Hold,  Rosaline,  this  favour  thou  shalt  wear. 
And  then  the  king  will  court  thee  for  his  dear ; 
Hold,  take  thou  this,  my  sweet,  and  give  me  thine  j 
So  shall  Biron  take  me  for  Rosaline. — 
And  change  your  favours  too :  so  shall  your  loves 
Who  contrary,  deceived  by  these  removes. 
5-  .         I  \,They  exchange  ornaments. 

Bos.  Come  on  then ;  wear  the  favours  most  in  sight. 

Kat.  But,  in  this  changing,  what  is  your  intent  ? 

Pri.  The  effect  of  my  intent  is,  to  cross  theirs. 

Ros.  But  shall  we  dance,  if  they  desire  us  to't  ? 

Pri.   No  j  to  the  death  we  will  not  move  a  foot : 
Nor  to  their  penn'd  speech  render  we  no  grace  : 
But  while  'tis  spoke,  each  turn  away  her  face. 

Boyet.   Why  that  contempt  will  kill  the  speaker's  heart, 
And  quite 'divorce  his  memory  from  his  part. 

Pri.  Therefore  I  do  it ;  and,  I  make  no  doubt, 
The  rest  will  ne'er  come  in,  if  he  be  out. 
There  is  no  such  sport  as  sport  by  sport  o'erthrown  ; 
To  make  theirs  ours,  and  ours  none  but  our  own  : 
So  shall  we  stay,  mocking  intended  game  : 
And  they  well  mocked,  depart  away  with  shame. 

\Exeunt. 

END    OF    ACT    IV. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE. — The  Princess's  Tent  as  before. 

Tilt  Princess  and  ktr   altendaats  discovered.       A  Jlourish  of 

trumpets  lieard  xuithout. 

Enter  BOYKT  from  L. 


40 

Boyet.   The  trumpet  sounds ;    be  masked :    the  masker's 
come.    \_IIe  crosses  beside  the  Princess,  and  the  ladies 

all  mask. 

Enter  the  King,  Biron,  Longaville,  Dumain,  and  Moth, 
/;;.  Russian  habits  and  masked,  L.  E. 

Moth.   '''All  hail  the  richest  beauties  on  the  earth!  " 
Boyet.  Beauties  no  richer  than  rich  taffeta. 
Moth.   "A  holy  parcel  of  the  fairest  dames," 

[  7'he  ladies  tvrn  their  backs  to  him, 
"  That  ever  turn'd  their  " — backs — "  to  mortal  views  !  " 
Biron,  [Apart  to  Moth.]     "Their  eyes,"    villain,    "their 

eyes." 
Moth.    "  That  ever  turned  their  eyes  to  mortal  views  !  " 
Out"— 

Boyet.  [Aside.]  True;  out,  indeed. 
Moth.   "  Out  of  your  favors,  heavenly  spirits,  vouchsafe 
Not  to  behold" — 

Biron.    [Apart  to  Moth.]   "  Once  to  behold  "  rogue. 
Moth.  "  Once  to  behold  with  your  sun-beamed  eyes," — 
"  With  your  sun-beamed  eyes  " — 
Boyet.   They  will  not  answer  to  that  epithet. 
Moth.   They  do  not  mark  me,  and  that  brings  me  out. 
Biron.  Is  this  your  perfectness  !   begone,  you  rogue. 

[Exit  Moth.  L. 
Jios.  What  would  these  strangers  ?  know  their  minds, 
Boyet : 
If  they  do  speak  our  language,  'tis  our  will 
That  some  plain  man  recount  their  purposes  : 
Know  what  they  would. 

Boyet.  (c.)  What  would  you  with  the  princess  ? 
Biron.   (l.  c.)  Nothing  but  peace,  and  gentle  visitation. 
Ros.  What  would  they,  say  they  ? 
Boyet.  Nothing  but  peace,  and  gentle  visitation. 
Ros.  Why,  that  they  have  ;  and  bid  them  so  begone. 
Boyet.  She  says,  you  have  it,  and  you  may  be  gone. 
Kiny.  [Crossing  to  c.]  Say  to  her,  we  have  measur'd  many 

miles. 
To  tread  a  measure  with  her  on  this  grass. 


41 

Boyet.  They  say  that  they  have  measur'd  many  a  mile, 
To  tread  a  measure  with  you  on  this  grass. 

Ros.   It  is  not  so :   ask  them  how  many  inches 
Is  in  one  mile  :   if  they  have  measur'd  many, 
The  measure  then  of  one  is  easily  told. 

Boyet.   If,  to  come  hither  you  have  measur'd  miles, 
And  many  miles,  the  princess  bids  you  tell. 
How  many  inches  do  fill  up  one  mile. 

Biron.  Tell  her,  we  measure  them  by  weary  steps.  * 

Boyet.  She  hears  herself.  [Rosaline  advances. 

Ros.  How  many  weary  steps, 
Of  many  weary  miles  you  have  o'ergone, 
Are  number'd  in  the  travel  of  one  mile? 

Biron.  We  number  nothing  that  we  spend  for  you  ; 
Our  duty  is  so  rich,  so  infinite. 
That  we  may  do  it  still  without  accompt. 
Vouchsafe  to  show  the  sunshine  of  your  face. 
That  we,  like  savages,  may  worship  it. 

Ros.  My  face  is  but  a  moon,  and  clouded  too. 
Xinff.  Blessed  are  clouds,  to  do  as  such  clouds  do  ! 
Vouchsafe,  bright  moon,  and  these  thy  stars,  to  shine 
(Those  clouds  remov'd,)  upon  our  watery  eyne. 

Ros.  O  vain  petitioner  !   beg  a  greater  matter  ; 
Thou  now  request'st  but  moonshine  in  the  water. 

[The  Gentlemen  all  cross  to  the  Ladies,  R. 
King.  Then,  in  our  measure,  vouchsafe  but  one  change  : 
Thou  bid'st  me  beg;  this  begging  is  not  strange. 
Ros.  Play,  music,  then  :    nay,  you  must  do  it  soon. 

[Music  plays. 
Not  yet ; — no  dance  : — thus  change  I  like  the  moon. 

King.  Will    you   not    dance  ?     How   come    you    thus    es- 

trang'd  ? 
Ros.  You  took  the  moon  at  full ;   but  now  she's  chang'd. 
King.  Yet  still  she  is  the  moon,  and  I  the  man. 
The  music  plays  ;  vouchsafe  some  motion  to  it. 
Ros.  Our  ears  vouchsafe  it. 

King.  But  your  legs  should  do  it. 

Ros.  Since  you  are  strangers,  and  come  here  by  chance, 
We'll  not  be  nice  : — take  hands;  we  will  not  dance. 


43 

King.     Why  take  we  hands  then  ? 

Eos.  Only  to  part  friends  : — 

Court'sy,  sweet  hearts ;  and  so  the  measure  ends. 

King.  More  measure  of  tliis  measure  ;  be  not  nice. 

Ros.  We  can  afford  no  more  at  such  a  price. 

King.  Prize  you  yourselves ;     What  buys  your  company  ? 

Ros.  Your  absence  only. 

J{ing.  That  can  never  be. 

Ros.  Then  cannot  we  be  bought :  and  so  adieu  ; 

King,  If  you  deny  to  dance,  let's  hold  more  chat. 
Ros.  In  private  then. 

King.  I  am  best  pleased  with  that 

{^They  converse  apart. 

Biron.   (c.)    \^To    the    Princess.']    White-handed  mistress^ 
one  sweet  word  with  thee. 

Pri.  Honey,  and  milk,  and  sugar  :  there  is  three. 

Biron.  Nay  then,  two  trays,  (an  if  you  grow  so  nice,) 
Metheglin,  wert,  and  malmsey  ; — Well  run  dice  ! 
There's  half  a  dozen  sweets. 

Pri.  Seventh  sweet,  adieu  ! 

Since  you  can  cog,  I'll  play  no  more  with  you. 

Biron.  One  word  in  secret. 

Pri.  Let  it  not  be  sweet. 

Biron.  Thou  griev'st  my  gall. 

Pri.  Gall?  bitter. 

Biron.  Therefore  meet. 

\^They  converse  opart,  up  r. 

Dum.  (r.    c.)  \^To  Maria.']  Will  you   vouchsafe   with    me 
to  change  a  word  ? 

Mnr.  Name  it. 

Dum.  Fair  lady, — 

^«^-  Say  you  so  ?  Fair  lord,— 

Take  that  for  your  fair  lady. 

Dum.  Please  it  you. 

As  much  in  private,  and  I'll  bid  adieu. 

YThey  converse  apart,  up  L, 
Kat.  (l.  c.)  {To  Longaville.)    fVhat,  was    your  visor  made* 

without  a  tongue  ? 
Lon.  I  know  the  reason,  lady,  why  you  ask. 


43 

Kat.  O,  for  your  reason  !  quickly,  sir,  I  long. 

Lon.  You  have  a  double  tongue  within  your  mask, 
And  would  afford  my  speechless  visor  half. 
One  word  in  private  with  you,  ere  I  die. 

\^They  converse  apart,  vp  L. 

Boyet.  The  tongues  of  mocking  wenches  are  as  keen 
As  is  the  razor's  edge  invisible. 

Ros.  Not  one  word  more,  my  maids  ;  break  off,  break  cfi, 

Biron.  By  heaven,  all  dry-beaten  with  pure  scoff! 

King.  Farewell,  mad  wenches  ;  you  have  simple  wits. 
Exeunt  the  King  and  Lords,  l. — The  Princess    and  Ladies  un- 
mask and  come  forward  laughing. 

Pri.   (l.)  Twenty  adieus  my  frozen  Muscovites. — 
Are  these  the  breed  of  wits  so  wonder'd  at? 

Boyet.   (l.)  Tapers  they  are,  with  your  sweet  breaths  pufFd 
out. 
Will  they  not,  think  you,  hang  themselves  to-night? 
Or  ever,  but  in  visors,  shew  their  faces  ? 

Ros.  O  !  they  were  all  in  lamentable  cases  ! 
The  king  is  my  love  sworn, 

Pri.  And  quick  Biron  hath  plighted  faith  to  me. 

Kat.  And  Longaville  was  for  my  service  born. 

Mar.  Dumain  is  mine,  as  sure  as  bark  on  a  tree. 

Boyet.  Madam,  and  pretty  mistresses  give  ear : 
Immediately  they  will  again  be  here 
In  their  own  shapes  j  for  it  can  never  be, 
They  will  digest  this  harsh  indignity. 

Pri.  Will  they  return  ? 

Boyet.  They  will. 
Therefore,  change  favors  ;  and,  when  they  repair, 
Blow  like  sweet  roses  in  this  summer  air. 

Ros.  Good  madam,  if  by  me  you'll  be  advis'd, 
Let's  mock  them  still,  as  well  known,  as  disguis'd : 
Let  us  complain  to  them  what  fools  were  here, 
Disguis'd  like  Muscovites,  in  shapeless  gear. 

Boyet,  Ladies,  withdraw  ;  the  gallants  are  at  hand. 

Pri.  Whip  to  our  tents,  as  rose  run  over  land. 

Exeunt  the  Princess,  Rosaline,  Katharine,  and  Maria,  in 
the  tent,  R. 


44 

Re-enter  the  King,  Biron,  Longaville,  and  Dumain,  in  their 
proper  habits,  L. 
King,  (c.)  Fair,  sir,    Heav'n  save    you!       Where    is    the 

princess  ? 
Boyet.   Gone  to  her  tent ;  Please  it  your  majesty, 
Command  me  any  service  to  her  thither? 

King.   That  she  vouchsafe  me  audience  for  one  word. 
BoTjet.  I  will;  and  so  will  she,  I  know,  my  lord. 

\_Exif,  R. 
Biron.  (l.  )  This  fellow  pecks  up  wit,  as  pigeons  peas. 
And  utters  it  again  when  Jove  doth  please  : 
He  is  wit's  pedler :  why  this  is  he. 
That  kiss'd  away  his  hand  in  courtesy ; 
This  is  the  ape  of  form,  monsieur  the  nice, 
That  when  he  plays  at  tables,  chides  the  dice 
In  honorable  terms  :  the  ladies  call  him,  sweet : 
The  stairs,  as  he  treads  on  them,  kiss  his  feet : 
This  is  the  flower  that  smiles  on  every  one, 
To  shew  his  teeth  as  white  as  whale's  bone  : 
And  consciences,  that  will  not  die  in  debt, 
Pay  him  the  due  of  honey-tongued  Boyet. 

King.  A  blister  on  his  sweet  tongue,  with  my  heart, 
That  put  Armado's  page  out  of  his  part. 
Re-enter  the   Princess,   ushered  by  Boyet,   and  followed  by 

Rosaline,  Maria,  Katharine,  and  Attendant.",  r. 
I   Biron.    (l.)  See  where  it  "comes  !     Behaviour,  what  wert 
thou,  "'•' 

Till  this  man  shew'd  thee  ?    and  what  art  thou  now?'^^-:—,— 

King,   (c.)  All  hail,  sweet  madam,  and  fair  time  of  day  ! 
We  came  to  visit  you  ;  and  purpose  now  f^ 

To  lead  you  to  our  court:  vouchsafe'it  then.         vjtS!-:t:c.: 
Pri.  (c.)  Thisiield  shall  hold  me;  and  so  hold  your  vow: 

Nor  heaven,  nor  I,  delight  in  perjur'd  men. 
King.  Rebuke  me  not  for  that  which  you  provoke ; 
The  virtue  of  your  eye  must  break  my  oath. 
.     Now,  by  my  maiden  honour,  yet  as  pure 
As  the  unsullied  lily,  I  protest, 
\  o^  tor  me  a  ts  though  I  should  endure, 
'/'ill    not  yield  to  be  your  house's  guest. 


45 

King.  O,  you  have  liv'd  in  desolation  here, 

Unseen,  unvisited,  mucli  to  our  shame. 
Pri.  Not  so,  my  lord,  it  is  not  so,  I  swear; 

We  have  had  pastimes  here,  and  pleasant  game  ; 
A  mess  of  Russians  left  us  but  of  late. 
King.  How,  madam  ?     Russians  ? 
Pri.   Ay,  in  truth  my  lord ; 
Trim  gallants,  full  of  courtship,  and  of  state. 

Cos.  (r.  c.)   We  four,  indeed,  confronted  were  with  four 
In  Russian  habit;  here  they  staid  an  hour, 
And  talk'd  apace;  and  in  that  hour,  my  lord, 
They  did  not  bless  us  with  one  happy  word. 
I  dare  not  call  them  fools  :  but  this  1  think. 
When  they  are  thirsty,  fools  would  fain  have  drink. 
Biron.  Gentle  sweet, 

Your  wit  makes  wise  things  foolish  ; 
Your  capacity 

Is  of  that  nature,  that  to  your  huge  store 
Wise  things  seem  foolish,  and  rich  things  but  poor. 

Cos.  This  proves  you  wise  and  rich,  for  in  my  eye 

Biron.  I  am  a  fool,  full  of  poverty. 
Cos.  Bnt  that  you  take  what  doth  to  you  belong, 
It  were  a  fault  to  snatch  words  from  my  tongue. 
Biron.  O,  I  am  yours,  and  all  that  1  possess. 
Cos.  All  the  fool  mine? 

Biron.  I  cannot  give  you  less. 

Cos.  Which  of  the  visors  was  it  that  you  wore? 
Biron.    Where?  when?  what  visor?  why  demand  you  this? 
Cos.  There,  then,  that  visor ;  that  superfluous  case, 
That  hid  the  worse,  and  shew'd  the  better  face. 

King.  [^Apart  to  the  Lords.^  We  are  descried  :  they'll  mock 

us  now  downright.  • 

Bum.  \^Apart  to  the  King.']  Let  us  confess,  and  turn  it  to  a 

jest. 
Pri.  Amftiz'd  my  lord?  why  looks  your  highness  sad?     . 
Cos.  Help,  hold  his  brows!    he'll  swoon  !     Why  look  you 
pale  ?— 
Sea-sick,  I  think,  coming  from  Muscovy. 

Biron.  Thus  pours  the  stars  down  plagues  for  perjury? 
Can  any  face  of  brass  hold  longer  out? 


Krn^.  Teach  us  sweet  madam,  for  oar  rude  fcrar'sgression 
Some  fair  excuse. 

Pri.  The  fairest  is  ccmfession. 
Were  jrca  not  here  bat  evem  now,  di^uisedl 

King.  Madam,  I  was. 

Prri.  Wli^ii  you  tlieii  were  here, 
Wba:  did  you  whisper  in  your  lady^a  ear  I 

K'.rhiT.  TksX  more  than  all  the  world  I  did  respect  her. 

Pr».  When  she  shall  challenge  this,  jou  will  reject  her. 

£jim(j.  Upon  mine  honomr,  no. 

Pri.  Rosaliaej 
What  did  the  Russian  whisper  in  your  ear? 

Rqs.  (b.  c.)  Madam,  he  swore  that  he  did  hold  me  dear 
As  precious  eye-sight :  and  did  value  me 
Above  this  world ;  adding  thereto,  moreover. 
That  he  would  wed  me  or  else  die  my  lover. 

Pri.  Heaven  give  thee  joy  of  him  !  the  noble  lord 
Moat  honourably  doth  uphold  his  word.  {Passmg  her  to  Eisro. 

Ein^.  What  mean  you,  madam  I  by  my  life,  my  troth, 
I  never  swore  this  lady  such  an  oath. 

Ros.  By  heaven  you  ^i^  ;  and  to  confirm  it  plain. 
You  gave  me  this  :  but  take  it,  sir,  again. 

Kinfj.  My  faith;  and  this  the  princes  I  did  give  : 
I  knew  her  by  thia  jewel  on  her  deeve. 

Pri.  Pardon  me/ sir,  this  jewel  did  she  wear; 
And  lord  Biron,  I  thank  him,  is  my  dear: — 

{^Guing  over  to  Biron. 
What ;  will  you  have  me,  or  your  pearl  again  ? 

Birfm.  Neither  of  either ;  I  remit  both  twain. 
I  see  the  trick  on't : 

:Some  carry-tale,  some  please-man,  some  slight  zanj, 
'Told  our  intents  before.  (T»Botfet.)  And  might  not  you. 
Ft: :        '  ■  :{.  to  ma"-:     .  ■     " 

Y'-  _■;•  oet :  G    ,    . 

Die  when  you  will,  a  smock  shall  be  your  showtf. 

ETmg.  {  Coming  c.  vrith  Prinetss.)  Yet,  dnce  love's  argument 
was  first  on  foot. 
Let  not  the  cloud  of  sorrow  jostle  it 
Fr.ni  -irbit  it  pcirro3^<?;  siEce,  to  wail  friends  i"«*. 


47 

Is  not  by  much  so  wholesome,  profitable, 
As  to  rejoice  at  friends  but  newly  found. 
Grant  us  your  loves. 

Pri.  (c.)  A  time,  methinks,  too  short 
To  make  a  world-wiihout-end  bargain  in  : 
No,  no,  my  lord,  your  grace  is  perjur'd  much, 
Full  of  dear  guiltiness;  and,  therelore  this, — 
If  for  my  love  (as  there  is  no  such  cause) 
You  will  do  aught,  this  shall  you  do  for  me  : 
Your  oath  I  will  not  trust;  but  go  with  speed 
To  some  forlorn  and  naked  hermitage, 
Remote  from  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world; 
There  stay,  until  the  twelve  celestial  signs 
Have  brought  about  their  annual  reckoning : 
If  this  austere  insociable  life 
Nip  not  the  gaudy  blossoms  of  your  love, 
Then,  at  the  expiration  of  the  year,  (  Offers  her  hand. 

By  this  virgin  palm,  now  kissing  thine, 
I  will  be  thine. 

King.  (r.  c.)  If  this,  or  more  than  this,  I  would  deny, 
The  sudden  hand  of  death  close  up  mine  eye  ! 

Dum.  (l.)   {To  Katharine.^  But  what  to  me,  my  love  1  but 
what  to  me? 

Kat.  A  wife  ! — A  beard,  fair  health,  and  honesty  ; 
With  three-fold  love,  I  wish  you  all  these  three. 

Dum.  O,  shall  I  say,  I  thank  you^entle  wife  ? 

Kat.  Not  so,  my  lord ; — a  twelvemonth  and  a  day 
I'll  mark  no  words  that  smooth-faced  wooers  say  : 
Come  when  the  king  doth  to  my  lady  come, 
Then,  if  I  have  much  love  I'll  give  vou  some. 

Lon.  (r.)  What  says  Maria  ? 

Mar^  At  a  twelvemonth's  end, 

I'll  change  my  black  gown  for  a  faithful  friend. 

Lon.  I'll  stay  with  patience ;  but  the  lime  is  long, 

Biron.  (Tq  Bosaline.)  Mistress,  look  f    me; 
Impose  some  service  on  me  for  thy  love. 

Jios.  (l.  c.)  Oft  have  I  heard  of  you,  my  Lord  Biron, 
Before  I  saw  vou  :  and  the  world's  larse  tongue 
Proclaims  you  for  a  man  replete  with  mocks ; 


48 

Full  of  comparisons  and  wounding  flouts; 
Which  you  on  all  estates  wiil  execute. 
To  weed  this  wormwood  from  your  fruitful  brain, 
You  shall  this  twelvemonth  t(  rm  from  day  to  day 
Visit  the  speechless  sick,  and  still  converse 
With  groaning  wretches;  and  your  task  shall  be 
With  all  the  fierce  endeavour  of  your  wit, 
To  enforce  the  pained  impotent  to  smile. 

Biron.  To  move  wild  laughter  in  the  throat  of  death? 
It  cannot  be  ;    it  is  impossible  : 
Mirth  cannot  move  a  soul  in  agony. 

Ros.  Why,  that's  the  way  to  choke  a  gibing  spirit, 
Whose  influence  is  begot  of  that  loose  grace, 
Which  shallow  laughing  hearers  give  to  fools  : 
A  jest's  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 
Of  him  that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  it. 

Biron.  A  twelvemonth  !  well,  befal  what  will  befal, 
I'll  jest  a  twelvemonth  in  an  hospital. 

Fri.   '[To  the  King,  advancinp.']  Ay,  sweet  my  lord  ;  and  so 
I  take  my  leave  ? — 
\_They  are  going  toxcards  R.,  when   Costard  enters  R.  in  a  cloak. 

Cos.  O  Lord,  sir,  they  would  know, 
Whether  the  three  worthies  shall  come  in,  or  no. 
Biron.  What,  are  there  but  three  ? 
Cos.  '  No,  sir ;  but  it  is  vara  fine, 

For  every  one  pursents  three. 

Biron.  And  three  times  thrice  is  nine.' 

Cos.  Not  so,  sir ;  under  correction,  sir  ;  I  hope  it  is  not  so, 
Biron.  By  Jove,  I  always  took  three  threes  for  nine. 
Cos.  O  Lord,  sir,  it  were  pity  you  should  get  your  living 
by  reckoning,  sir.     For  mine  own  part,  I  am,  as  they  say, 
but  to  parfect  oile  man, — one   poor  man  ;     Pompion  the 
great,  sir. 

Biron.  Art  thou  one  of  the  worthies?. 
Cos.  It  pleased  them  to  think  me  worthy  of  Pompion  the 
great :   for  mine  own  part,  I  know  not  the  degree  of  the 
worthy;  but  I  am  to  stand  for  him. 
Biron,  Go,  bid  them  prepare. 


49 

Co.?.   We  will  turn  it  finely  ofT,  sir  ;  we  will  take  some  care. 

\_Exit  Costard,  r. 

Kinrj.   Biron,  they  will  shame  us,  let  them  not  approach. 

Biron.  We  are  shame-proof,  my  lord  :  and  'tis  some  policy 
To  have  one  show  worse  than  the  king's  and  his  company. 

K'nuj.  I  say,  they  shall  not  come. 

Pri.   Nay,  my  good  lord,  let  me  o'er-rule  you  now  : 
That  sport  best  pleases  that  doth  least  know  how. 

King.  The  ship  is  under  sail^  and  here  she  comes  amain. 

{The  King  leads  the  Princess  to  seat  r.  Biron  escorts  Ro- 
saline, and  the  other  ladies  are  attended  by  their  escorts.  The 
curtains  of  the  tent  are    lifted  at  back ^  disclosing   a   plaffunn. 

Flourish  of  trumpets. 

» 

The  Pageant  of  the  Nine  Worthies. 

£nter  Cost  ART),  on  the  platform,  armed,  for  Pompey. 

Cos.   "  I  Pompey  am," 

Boyet.  You  lie,  you  are  not  he. 

Cos.    "  I  Pompey  am,  Pompey  surnam'd  the  big,"  — 

Dum.  The  great. 

Cos.  It  is  great,  sir  ; — Pompey  surnamed  the  great ; 
That  oft  in  field,  with  targe  and   shield,  did   make  my  foe  to 

sweat : 
And  travelling  along  this  coast,  I   here  am  come  by  chance ; 
And  lay  my  arms  bet'ore  the  legs  of  this  sweet  lass  of  France. 
If  your  ladyship  would  say,  "  Thanks  Pompey,"  1  had  done. 

Pri.  Great  thanks,  great  Pompey. 

Cos.  'Tis  not  so  much  worth  :   but,  I    hope  I  was   perfect  ; 
I  made  a  little  fault  in  "great." 

Biran.  My  hat   to   a  halfpenny,  Pompey   proves    the   best 
worthy. 
Enter  Sir  Nathaniel,  on  the  platform,  armed,  for  Alexander 
Nat.  "When  in  the  world  I  liv'd,  I  was  the  world's  com- 
mander ; 
By  east,   west,  north,  and   south,    I   spread    my  conquering 

might : 
My  'scutcheon  plain  declares  that  I  am  Alisander." 

Boyet.  Your  nose  says,  no,  you  are  not ;  for  it   stands   too 
right. 


Pri.  The  conqueror  is  disraay'd :   Proceed,  good   Alexan- 
der. 

Xat.  "  When   in  the  world  I  liv'd,  I  was  the  world's  com- 
mander;" — 

Boi/et.  Most  true,  'tis  right ;  you  were  so  Alisander, 

Biroh.   Pompey  the  great, — 
Take  away  the  conqueror,  take  away  Alisander. 

Cos.  O,  sir,  you  have  overthrown  Alisander  the  conqueror! 
[To  Nathaniel.'^  You  will  be  scraped  out  of  the  painted 
cloth  for  this.  A  conqueror,  and  afeard  to  speak  !  run  away 
for  shame,  Alisander,  (^Exit  Nathaniel.)  There,  an't  shall 
please  you  ;  a  foolish  mild  man ;  an  honest  man,  look  you, 
and  soon  dash'd !  He  is  a  marvellous  good  neighbour,  in 
sooth;  and  a  very  good  bowler:  but,  for  Alisander,  alas, 
you  see,  how  'tis; — a  little  o'erparted: — But  there  are 
worthies  a  coming  will  speak  their  mind  in  some  other  sort. 

Pri.  Stand  aside,  good  Pompey. 
Enter  HoLOFERNES,  Oil   the  platform,  for  Judas   Maccab<xu4, 
and  Moth  for  the  Infant  Hercules. 

Hoi.   "  Great  Hercules  is  presented  by  this  imp, 

\\Tiose  club  kill'd  Cerberus,  that  three-headed  canu9. 
And,  when  he  was  a  babe,  a  child,  a  shrimp, 

Thus  did  he  strangle  serpents  in  his  manus: 
Quoniam,  he  seemeth  in  minority ; 

Ergo,  I  come  with  this  apology." —  [To  Moth. 

Keep  some  state  in  thy  exit,  and  vanish.  (Exit  Moth. 

Hoi.   "Judas,  I  am,"— 

Diim.  The  more  shame  for  you,  Judas. 

Hoi.  What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

Boyet.  To  make  Judas  hang  himself. 

Hoi.  I  will  not  be  put  out  of  countenance. 

Biron.  Because  thou  hast  no  face. 

Hoi.  What  is  this  ? 

Boyet.  A  cittern  head. 

Dum.  The  head  of  a  bodkin. 

Biron.  A  death's  face  in  a  ring. 

Lon,  The  face  of  an  old  Roman  coin,  scarce  seen. 

Biron.  And  now,  forward  ;  for  we  have  put  thee  in  eoun- 


51 

Hoi.  You  have  put  me  out  of  countenance. 

Biron.     False  :  we  have  given  thee  faces. 

Hoi.  But  you  have  out-faced  them  all. 

Biron.   An  thou  wert  a  lion,  we  would  do  so. 

Boyet.  Therefore,  as  he  is  an  ass,  let  him  go. 
And  so  adieu,  sweet  Jude  ! 

Hoi.  This  is  not  generous:  not  gentle;  not  humble. 

Boyet.  A  light  for  Monsieur  Judas;  it  grows  dark,  he  may 
stumble.  [Exit  Holofernea. 

Pri.  Alas,  poor  Maccabeus,  how  hath  he  been  baited  ! 
Enter  Don  Adriano  de  Armado,  on  the  platform,  armed,  for 

Hector. 

Biron.   Hide   thy  head,  Achilles ;  here   comes   Hector   in 
arms 

King.  Hector  was  but  a  Trojan  in  respect  of  this. 

Boyet.  But  is  this  Hector  ? 

Dtim.   I  think  Hector  was  not  so  clean-timbered. 

Lon.   His  leg  is  too  big  for  Hector. 

Dum.  More  calf,  certain. 

Boyet.  No  ;  he  is  best  indued  in  the  small. 

Biron.  This  cannot  be  Hector. 

Bum.   He's  a  god  or  a  painter  ;  for  he  makes  faces. 

Ann.   "The   armipotent    Mars,   of  lances    the    almighty. 
Gave  Hector  a  gift," — 

Bum.  A  gilt  nutmeg. 

Biron.  A  lemon. 

Lon.  Stuck  with  cloves. 

Bum.  No,  cloven. 

Jir?n.   Peace  ! 
"  The  armipotent  Mars,  of  lances  the  almighty. 
Gave  Hector  a  gift,  the  heir  of  Ilion  : 

A  man  so  breath' d,  that  certain  he  would  fight,  yea 
From  morn  till  night,  out  of  his  pavilion. 

I  am  that  flower." — 

Bam.   That  mint. 

Lon.  That  columbine. 

Arm.   Sweet  Lord  Longaville,  rein  thy  tongue. 

Lon.  I  must    rather   give  it    the    rein,    for   it  runs  against 
Hector. 


52 

Dinn.  Ay,  and  Hector's  greyhound. 

Arm.  The  sweet  war-man  is  dead  and  rotten;  sweet 
chucks,  beat  not  the  bones  of  the  buried  :  when  he  breath'd 
he  was  a  man — But  T  will  forward  with  my  device  :  \_To  the 
Princess.']  Sweet  royalty,  bestow  on  me  the  sense  of  hearing. 

Pri.  Speak,  brave  Hector ;  we  are  much  delighted. 

Arm.  I  do  adore  thy  sweet  grace's  slipper. 

Boyet.  He  loves  her  by  the  foot. 

Dnm.  He  may  not  by  the  yard. 

Arm.   '-This    Hector    far    surmounted    Hanibal" — {Enter 

Costard  in  haste. 

Cos.  The  Party's  gone   fellow  Hector  ;   Jaquenetta's  gone. 

Arm.  What  meanest  thou  ? 

Cos.  Faith,  unless  you  play  the  honest  Tro;an,  and  after  her 
— the  poor  wench  is  cast  away;  she's  crying  for  you. 

Arm.  Dost  thou  mfamorise  me  among  potentates  ?  Thou 
shalt  die  ! 

By  the  north-pole  I  do  challenge  thee  ! 

Cos.  I  will  not  fight  with  a  pole  like  a  northern  man.  I'll 
slash,  I'll  do  it  with  my  sword. 

Dum.  Room  for  the  incensed  worthies. 

Cos.  {Throicmfi  down  his  helmet.^  I'll  do  it  in  my  shirt. 

Dum.    Most  resolute  Pompey. 

Arm.  Gentlemen  and  soldiers  !  Pardon  me;  I  will  not 
combat  in  my  shirt. 

Tjon.  You  may  not  deny  it !  Pompey  hath  made  the  chal- 
lenge. 

Arm..  Sweet  bloods,   I  both  may  and  will. 

Lon.  What  reason  have  you  for  it? 

Arm.  The  naked  truth  of  it  is — I  have,  no  shirt  I  I  go 
wfiolward  for  penance.  (  They  fir/ht  and  exit, 

(  The  curtain  closes. 
Enter  Mercade,  l. 

Mer.   {Kneeling  before  Princess.)    God  save  you,  madam, 

Pri.  W^elcome,  Mercade  ;  but  that  thou  interruptest  our 
merriment. 

]fer.  I  am  sorry,  madam,  for  the  news  I  bring  is  heavy  on 
my  tongue;    the  king,  your  father 

Pn.  AiJetto — for  my  life  ! — and  calleth  for  us  ?         {Rises. 


53 

Mer.    Even  so.    My  tale  is  told. 

Pri.   Boyet,  prepare  ;   I  will  away  to-night. 

King.   Madam,  not  so  ;   I  do  beseech  you  stay. 

Pri.  Prepare  I  say.  I  thank  you,  gracious  lords,  for  all 
your  fair  endeavours;  an  entreat  that  you  vouchsafe  in  your 
rich  wisdom  to  excuse,  or  hide,  the  liberal  opposition  of  our 
spirits  ; — if  overboldly  we  have  borne  ourselves  your  gentle 
ness  was  guilty  of  it. 

Enter  Dox  Adriano  de  Armado. 

Arm.  Sweet  majesty,  vouchsafe  me.  Most  esteemed 
greatness,  will  you  hear  the  dialogue  that  the  two  learned 
men  have  compiled,  in  praise  of  the  owl  and  the  cuckoo  ?  it 
should  have  followed  in  the  end  of  our  show. 

King.   Call  them  forth  quickly,   we  will  do  so. 

Arm.  Hollo,  approach. 

(The  pageant  i.'i  resumed.  The  curtains  part,  disclosing 
a  Tahleav,  of  Heims,  in  a,  sled,  amidst  emblems  of 
Winter.') 

Winter.         When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall. 

And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail. 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall, 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail. 
When  blood  is  nipp'd  and  ways  be  foul. 
Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl, 

To-who  : 
Tu-whit,  to-who,  a  merry  note. 
While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  pot.  [Chorus 

{The  stage   now  presents  a    Tableau.,  rejireseiiting  Ver 
amid  her  votaries.') 

Sprivg.  When  daisies  pied,  and  violets  blue. 

And  lady-smocks  all  silver-white. 
And  ciickoo-buds  of  yellow  hue. 

Do  paint  the  meadows  with  delight. 
The  cuckoo  then,  on  every  tree. 
Mocks  married  men,  for  thus  singe  he. 

Cuckoo  ; 
Cuckro,  cuckoo, — O  word  of  fear. 
L'npleasing  to  a  married  ear.  [Chorim 


END. 


■,-t1 


'■"■— '-^ 


THE  HAINES  PIANO 

fi'A?   GIVFV 

(QUARTER    Ol      A    CENTURY. 

IKSr-CI.ASS   .X   EVERY    KT     '  ' 
i(>  WmCTI  11  IE 

lo-OOO    ::sro'w^     ikt     use 
The    Waines     Pi ano- jpoi^TE 

be'ore    pur-ehasing 
For  sale,  to  rent,  and  by  installments,  at 

27  UNION  SQUARE. 


L 


Increase  in  Sales. — The  sales  of  the  Haines 
Brothers  were  as  follows  : — Made  and  sold  in  i866,  830 
I'ianos;  in  1867,  972;  in  1868,  1,003,  >"  1^69,  1.205; 
(Vom  Sf^  I,  i86p.  f-0  Sept.  \,  1870,  1,300.  In  the 
-n  r\\\  f  May,  1871,  161  Pianos  were  made  and. sold 
by  thi-  ,,rm,  showing  a  rate  of  1,920  Pianos  in  a  year, 
i:nd  exhibiting  an  increase  of  much  more  than  double 
A  ;thin  five  years.  These  are  solid  and  significant  facts 
!1k1  should  be  borne  in  mind  by  all  buyers.  They 
;liow  r.n  unimpeachable  public  verdict  ni  favi  .f  tht 
-  ano-Fortt. 

£^ 


r  rv. 


^3i  PcT/ 


5>^ 


^7 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON   THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Shi     1984 

APR17198I 


Series  9482 


